


Let's play a game

by DrageeKeksi



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: A lot of stuff is going to happen, Angst, Detective Family, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Homicide, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Mental Health Issues, Mind Games, Some humor actually too, Team Bonding, That stuff too, Whump, Whump for everybody, and pain, but mostly Bright, except you will not, friendship and all of that stuff, have fun, lots of pain, oh and did I mention kidnapping, p a i n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 72,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrageeKeksi/pseuds/DrageeKeksi
Summary: An inconspicuous homicide turns into something much darker when the team arrives for further investigations. Suddenly the crime scene isn't only the little shop anymore, but expands itself into each of their private lives. The killer isn't after the kills. He is after Gil Arroyo's team.He calls himself the Game Master.And he wants to play a game.You will lose.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly
Comments: 40
Kudos: 70





	1. Prologue

Light at the end of the tunnel.

It sends out motivation, traveling in jolts of voltage on the synapses, colliding in the brain like an explosion. Nevertheless, the brain will register the new information, process the new data, and send it out. Back to his muscles, to his legs, pushing further. Run little human. Run for how long your legs will carry you.

Light at the end of the tunnel.

In the end nothing more than an oasis in the middle of the desert.

Yet the hope that builds up effortlessly can function as a pair of rose-colored glasses. Cloud the reality in a wonderful rainbow. Place a barrier between your imagination and brutal reality.

So that's how Bright found himself, running through the dark alley with a pair of rose-colored glasses on his nose. His lungs were burning in protest, his legs shaking. Nothing that could stop Malcolm from running further.

To the light at the end of the tunnel.

He craved it. For weeks he begged for an end. He was never yet granted a chance, a gap between all the disasters happening.

Until now. He'd rather die than let this chance slip from his fingers. That's why he needed to keep running. The footsteps behind him were permanently growing louder. And steadier. Fortunately, Malcolm had a good head start, although he worried it wouldn't be enough.

The light at the end of the tunnel came nearer.

It was no lie, it really existed. Only in his case, the tunnel was blocked. A door obstructed his access to freedom. The light escaping from the little gap between door and ground was enough to threaten tears in his eyes. To make his body shake in pleasant anticipation. To create energy and make it surge through his body. He was starting to think, with every new step he was elevating. Growing wings, bursting through the ceiling and flying into heaven.

He bumped against the door sooner than expected. He stumbled away in shock, his hands throbbing from the harsh impact. He never felt so much joy in such pain.

He fished out the tiny lockpicker, his trembling hands traveling to the locked door. Oh how he hated his tremor right now. If that was the reason he would fail he would cut off those useless limbs. Earlier when he had all the time in the world it had been so much easier. After that run and the footsteps gradually becoming louder, it became an impossible task.

Malcolm fumbled desperately with the lock, control slowly gliding from his grasp. As if it just fell to the ground his head glanced down.

To the light at the end of the tunnel.

The faint rays of sunshine crawling into this dark tunnel.

The moment you lose complete control of your doing, everything's lost. Bright knew that which is why he tried very hard not to lose his lockpicking mechanism, which obviously refused to work.

The footsteps grew louder.

Bright refused to accept he had long lost control. He was merely fumbling around with the tiny scrap, like a rookie breaking his first lock.

_Click!_

He heard it. He heard the first sign of breaking. Did he imagine that or was his luck actually allowing him to open this door?

The footsteps grew louder. Malcolm flinched, almost suspecting them to be next to his ear.

Fine by him. This lock was going down if it wanted or not. He ignored the self-inflicted slashes on his hand, the burning it conjured.

The lock revealed another clicking sound. This time Malcolm was sure he hadn't imagined the first sound. It worked. He was as good as out of this hell.

Despite the footsteps gradually becoming louder, Bright wasn't distracted. His sole attention was on the lock, breaking under his hands further. It didn't take much. He already tasted freedom. The warm tickling sunbeams on his pale skin. Fresh air brushing past his split-up lips into his lungs and system. Wind dancing through his messy and greasy hair.

He was outside, that he forgot he wasn't.

He was still in the tunnel while his mind was in the light.

And that changed everything. His whole vision broke when the rose-colored glasses fell down. The scales dropping from his eyes, the darkness of the tunnel engulfing him.

"Freeze!"

The footsteps came to a halt, directly behind him. He blinked confused at the lock. It still remained intact. Tears welled up in his eyes. He opened it, didn't he? He escaped this hell, he _must_ escape it! He won't be able to survive another day- How could he allow this to happen? After all his efforts?

He had been free when he never was.

So close and yet miles away.

He dropped to his knees weakly. Where was hope? Motivation? His head fell down, searching for the little sun rays. Where was the light?

"Hands where I can see them!" The steady voice demanded firmly. A little out of breath from the chase, yet still in control. The gun was aimed at an already deceased human. Without hope, Malcolm was nothing more than a living corpse. Given up on life.

"I said hands up!" The man barked enraged. That disgusting voice Malcolm had gotten used to hating. Loathing burned through his every fiber. His muscles tensing up, his fists clenching and teeth crunching.

Malcolm raised to his feet, the person behind his back spitting out further threatening demands. Like a rookie, panicking without his partner. Pathetic.

Bright turned around. He raised his arms wordlessly. His face remained neutral, internally he was going crazy in homicidal fury. He glared the man deep into his eyes.

If he was going down, he'd drag him all along.

They would both go to hell.

"Good, now on your knees!" The man demanded rightfully. Did he think he was serving justice only because he said those words? Malcolm couldn't believe the world he was living in. The stupidity that didn't even spare at least one human being. His belief in the human race was long lost, but never so broken.

As he lowered himself down on his knees, he genuinely wondered. How he, Malcolm Bright, managed to get himself into such a situation.

Yet here he was.

Another Whitley being on the verge of getting cuffed by a wannabe cop.

Maybe it was his fate everyone kept extending to unnecessary lengths. Maybe he was indeed like his father. Maybe these murderous talents would be more of a help than what the law demanded.

Malcolm smirked, studying the other man with feral eyes. Even if he would go down. But not without a bang.

Nostalgically Malcolm remembered the last moments he spent as Bright. The moments that led him up to this miserable fate. He remembered them so he could say his last farewell.

He would definitely die as a Whitley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome on board to my story!  
> I wanted to give you a warning that this story is one big fish. Like, it's the book no one ever wanted.  
> Therefore I promise to update the story every second day since it's already finished. All it needs is one last proofreading.  
> A friendly reminder to where we are in the timeline: before the finale, but pretty much after everything else (I don't want to clean up what Ainsley did, that isn't my job)  
> If you have further questions or feedback feel free to make use of the comment section below.  
> Now that that's said...  
> Enjoy :)


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I promised, here goes Chapter 1 ;)

Gil Arroyo slammed the door of his car shut and sighed exhaustedly. His gaze wandered off to the opposite side of the street, to the little store, which was way too crowded for its capacity. It looked violated by all the police officers. Ironically this place had been violated even before the mass of people and restrictions appeared.

"Morning Gil!" A cheerful voice next to his ear chirped, startling the older lieutenant. Gil glared down at the least person he'd hoped to see, but to be honest, most expected to see. He sighed tiredly, having played that game several times already.

"Bright, didn't I tell you to take some time off?" He grumbled and refused to move to the crime scene, which glued the profiler next to him.

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders and blew raspberries. "Honestly, I don't really recall. You say stuff like that pretty often, you know?" Bright responded, looking up to his boss with puppy eyes. Gil frowned and mechanically set on moving into the direction of his work. "Maybe I never even stopped saying it because you always ignore it." He mused more to himself, trying to remember when the last time was Malcolm took a break.

"Ha, well then it's already settled I guess!" Malcolm snorted amused. His smile dropped immediately when Gil glared angrily at him. "Right, not funny." He squeaked guiltily.

"So, what are we dealing with?" He changed the topic, not really to his favor. Gil looked for the information in his head he had been already given. "Regular homicide, middle-aged man." He delivered briefly. Bright clapped his hands in motivation. "Great, then let's do that." He exclaimed weirdly joyful.

Gil turned around his heel towards Bright, so the kid had to stop abruptly in order he wouldn't run into his boss. "It's an unspectacular murder and I definitely do not need a profiler." He stated clearly, eager to get rid of the kid. For Bright's own sake of course.

His severity brushed unattended at Bright away, who didn't look impressed, not even in the slightest. "Come on Gil, I'm always needed." Gil was about to object when Bright raised one finger. "Not always wanted." He added with his signature smartass smile. "Besides, I'm already here, you know better than anyone else I'm not going to leave." Confidently he stalked past Arroyo and made his way towards the little store. Gil stood perplexed at the same place, which tempted Bright in calling for him. "Hurry up Gil, we have a murder to solve, no time to waste!" He bellowed into the dark of the night before he disappeared inside the lightened store. Gil blinked perplexed at the spot his protégé had been standing seconds ago. "What just happened...?"

Malcolm Bright almost stepped into the crime scene with a joyful jump in his walk. He was in a surprisingly good mood, and he wasn't actually scared a little murder could change that. Even the profiler wasn't always right.

He acknowledged the several TVs in the store with rising adrenaline. "Tz, and Gil said normal murder." He recaptured in a mocking tone. Every screen showed something different, but they all had something in common. They portrayed the same thing. The murder victim, just from so many different angles. Some from far away to show the whole body, some were pretty detailed to the face. Those weren't actual video records, but photos taken at a precise time, or else he could see the two detectives standing next to the corpse on screen as well.

He pushed a premature profile to the side and walked up to his teammates. They shared a concentrated look as they observed Edrisa Tanaka in her work, examining the corpse. "Is he the owner?" Bright skipped all formalities and went straight to work, he was a bit late after all. JT and Dani both lifted their heads, Edrisa was too engrossed in her work.

"The shop owner received an anonymous call from his store. He went to check, found this corpse." Dani filled him in. JT nodded behind Bright. "He's outside, still in shock." He added. Bright looked behind him, to the play of blue and red lights reflecting in the window glasses.

A big hand squeezed his shoulder affectionally and Gil appeared in his view. "So, we have a random stranger killed in someone else's store?" He recaptured for all of them. JT spared a glance at the corpse. "By the looks of it, yeah." He shrugged. Gil huffed a bit frustrated. "Not really open to a lot of leads." He realized and even Bright would've thought so for a second. Though people didn't call him resourceful for nothing. "Let's see if we can change that." He mused optimistically and crouched down to Edrisa Tanaka.

"Good evening Edrisa." He greeted softly, still the doctor was startled. "Oh, Mr. Bright! I didn't hear you coming!" She chirped happily. She repositioned her glasses and tried to suppress a big wide grin. Bright smiled a little uncomfortably at her shameless crush, but either way was glad to see her.

"Can you already confirm the cause of his death?" He jumped straight to work and summoned work Edrisa, who could finally talk freely without getting nervous.

"Yes! Till now it clearly looks like death due to a gunshot, a very handy 9mm, through the head." She explained confidently, totally in her element. Bright stretched himself to look at the corpse's head. A red flower blossomed on his forehead between his eyes, a very clear shot. His lifeless eyes were filled with rest amounts of fear and disbelief.

"What's the distance we're talking about?" He asked meanwhile. Edrisa mused just for a second. "It wasn't too far away, but definitely not directly placed on his head. My first but not final claim is about 1,5 to 2 meters." A small 'Aha'- sound escaped Bright's lips as he slowly backed away from the corpse and straightened himself again.

"So the act of killing was impersonal to the killer." Bright concluded and interlaced his fingers. JT raised one eyebrow, he looked unimpressed. "That's all you got? Impersonal?"

Bright noticed Gil grinning victoriously in the back, proving Bright wasn't needed for once and could take some time off. Malcolm tried his best to smile over that fact, but he really just fought the urge to glare at them sulkily. They wanted a full profile, then he would give them one.

He pulled blue gloves out of his jacket, which to his defense really wasn't as weird as it sounded. He doesn't receive any gloves from work, in order he can’t touch the evidence. Well, let’s just say he found his ways of legally disobeying orders.

"This man, probably around 44 or 45, is no tramp or junkie from the streets at all. His clothing shows of a classic middle class, not rich, but definitely comfortable." He started explaining while putting his gloves on and dodging Gil's glares. "He must've been on his way home. From work?" Bright kneeled down to the victim and observed him with keen eyes. "No. Probably after celebrating the Afterhours with some colleagues." Bright concluded after seeing a few harmless stains on his white chemise. "Beer o'clock, I get it," JT interjected, Bright ignored him.

"He was attacked out of the blue. A little bit too drunk, a little bit too dark, a little bit too slow. Our Killer waited for a person to overwhelm and he found an easy victim in him. He made a violent approach. We can see scratches and red stains on his body, so the person definitely put up a fight."

Bright could see the vague sequence of the fight. His eyes darted towards the wounds at the man's wrists. He could visibly imagine how the killer tried to secure his hands behind his back. The small scratches on his left cheek. The killer, right-handed, trying to cover his mouth to avoid attention.

"Our Killer was nervous. Maybe he never did this before, only operated in the shadows, because he is definitely experienced. Just not at the front. He struggled to keep a straight plan, must've had a blackout. The right-handed killer tried to shut the victim, but therefore lost control of his arms and legs."

Malcolm moved the man's head to the left side to have a look at the back of his head. A dried dark liquid was sticking to his greasy hair. "The killer must've remembered he had a gun and made quick progress." Malcolm finished, a little bit sad at the end since he had a clear image of the moment the poor man lost the battle and had to accept his fate.

"A killer in his diapers, easy catch." Dani threw in. Malcolm jumped up, unwillingly startling most of his teammates. He looked especially at Dani, the train of disagreement taking on full speed. "Actually no. This killer is no starter. He has the experience, but with him-" He pointed to the corpse, "-he chose someone bigger than him as if he was trying to impress someone."

Bright began to muse at the end. He set moving, pointing at the several screens. "Our killer is advanced in the technical field. Still, all of this looks planned. Are there any signs of breaking in?" Bright interrupted his own monologue. Dani looked into her notes. "No, there are no signs of forced breaking in-"   
"You should definitely check on that with the shop owner," Bright advised rapidly with a nod towards Gil.

"Anyways. This murder, this _act_ was perfectly planned into the tiniest detail. It has a bigger purpose for the killer. A meaning. But what?" Malcolm muttered the last part and looked for answers inside the screen showing the dead face of the victim. What was the killer thinking? What were his intentions?

"Wait you said act? Do you expect he's a new serial killer?" Malcolm ignored Gil for now. Something more important was bugging him.

"The murder didn't matter to him. He killed the person because it was a necessity to achieve his actual goals. A gunshot is very impersonal. He was probably not even waiting for the man to wake up. He placed him next to the counter and pulled the trigger." Bright mimed a gunshot towards the counter, where blood was covering the wall. A hella lot of blood. "Then he carried him to the open place to execute his photo shooting. He installed the photos into the screen and called the owner. These two tasks were more important than the killing in general."

"Why?" It was Dani's voice that caught Bright momentarily out of his profiling. They all had their problems trying to follow him, to understand why in the world someone would murder in such a paradoxical way.

Bright smiled warmly, ready to give them a hand to enter the horrifying world of these psychopath's minds, that seemed so easy for him to enter. "I guess what the killer really wants is our attention. Right away, or else he could've waited for the morning, so the corpse could be discovered without his help." Gil suppressed the urge to show his frustration visible. He despised it when they had to dance how the killer wanted it.

Gil started to give his instructions on their next moves, but Bright wasn't listening anymore. Instead, he preferred to over analyze the pictures again. God knows why. There should be nothing to find anymore. The corpse was irrelevant. Its only purpose was to create a disturbance, by getting greeted by a corpse from every angle possible. Personally, Bright could assure the killer that it definitely worked on him.

The next time Bright looked at the TV, he wasn't greeted by the face of the deceased victim. There was a man. A man, just standing there and watching. A motion traveled through the other screens. The man was portrayed, just like the victim earlier, from every angle possible. Even his face was on it, shocked bright eyes staring into nothing.

Malcolm was watching himself.

Though that wasn't the scariest thing. A black silhouette was behind him. And it was creeping closer.

Bright didn't react immediately. But when he did, he couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect that sure escalated quickly


	3. Chapter 2

As much as Gil hated to admit it, he really needed his consultant on this one. As always Bright proved himself to be several steps ahead of them. And this murder seemed to be something of its own kind. A killer that gave a damn about the kills but craved for attention? He must admit, not his favorite type of cases. Now he had to deal with it and pray it would be over soon. No one knew it hadn't even really started yet.

Something caught Gil's interest. Carefully he sneaked to the window, the thing beside illuminated by the streetlights.

"Bright? Come here." He called for his profiler. A black top hat slept next to the glass. Playing cards were attached to the hat. The ace of clubs was more present in Gil's eyes than the other few cards. Why was this here and how had no one yet noticed it?

"Bright?" Gil repeated more urgently, still made no attempts to check on his muted profiler. He was captivated by the ace of clubs.

It was strange, Malcolm was an eager kid and normally motivated to help. Though after seconds there were still no signs of that brat.

"Bright?" Gil broached the subject again, this time more frustrated, especially since the outcome remained the same. Concern bubbled in his stomach. Maybe the profiler was just engrossed with some thoughts. His heart dropped deep into his pants when an unfamiliar voice answered instead of Bright's.

"I must say, I'm impressed."

Gil's head snapped abruptly into the direction. He ignored the growing pain in his neck. There he stood. His Malcolm. With a sharp knife pressed against his bare throat. With actual fear marked in his eyes while a hand clamped his mouth shut.

"Drop the weapon!" JT and Dani rushed back into the scene with raised weapons. Gil was struck by the reminder and fumbled to his gun himself. His arms though were shaking too much for him to properly fixate.

The stranger feared no boundaries, he presented his identity carefreely. Black hair combed strictly back, and a short and decent beard embraced his face. He wore an extravagant suit where playing cards were sticking out of his breast pocket. The ace of clubs, Gil realized mortified.  
He lifted his head and was greeted by a cocky grin. The ambusher glanced down to the frozen man against his body. Malcolm stared into nothing and was in general unresponsive. Not that he had a choice with his mouth shut by the stranger.

"Here's what you gonna do." The killer, Gil assumed freely, had a beautiful clear voice. He showed no signs of nervousness and bathed in utter control. You could even say the stranger enjoyed the situation and favored every passing second.

"You will put down your weapons and we'll have a civilized conversation. See? Doesn't that sound pleasant?" The criminal hummed peacefully. His smile showed actual kindness, still he was able to slice Malcolm's throat with one small move. The irony of the situation produced confused frustration inside the group.

"We ain't doing shit! Drop the fucking weapon!" JT snapped, his finger tensing up to pull the trigger. Gil knew he wouldn't do it, but the criminal wouldn't need to know that.

Gil furrowed his brows when the killer, out of all possible reactions, _laughed._ Malcolm's eyes shifted up to his captor. He flinched mildly when the killer responded also with eye contact.

"Did you hear that? He really thinks he's in control." He spoke to Malcolm, his words laced with amusement. He grinned for a moment at the cops, then continued talking to Malcolm as if they didn't exist. "Do you wanna fill them in on their position or should I do?" He asked casually, Malcolm frowning in distress. Dani glanced back to Gil and forth to the killer, waiting for something to happen. As Gil seemed paralyzed, she couldn't hold back anymore. "Quit the play and let him go-"

"Drop your weapons."

Dani took a deep breath, her wide-opened eyes wandering to Bright. The man took several strong breaths the moment his mouth was released. Gil's upper body leaned forward in missing understanding. Sure, he could understand why the killer would say that. But not why Bright would.

The profiler pointed with his eyes up to his captor, who was almost a head taller. "Unless you are willing to shoot me to catch him, you are not in any position to hold your guns up." He explained soothingly, luring out an affectional smile out of the killer. It was hard for the trained police cops to follow the instructions but let alone the imagination of a Malcolm bleeding out on the floor forced them to rid themselves of their safety.

"Good, very good." The killer praised them as they put away their guns. "Don't worry, soon you get to have them back. Don't think the hunt is over yet, we haven't even started."

Now there were 5 people standing in a circle, most of them unarmed. They shared glances at each other, the anticipation of what was about to happen killing them from the inside.

"With what?" JT grumbled curiously. The killer spared him an attentive look. "I beg your pardon?" He acted as if he didn't understand the most important question nagging the cops. Malcolm rolled his eyes annoyed. This one had a very dramatic flair, just like his old man.

"With playing, right?" Malcolm huffed. He earned a pat on his head. "Precisely." Purred the stranger. Malcolm squirmed hopelessly away from the unwanted touch.  
He grinned maliciously.

"I am the Game Master. And I am going to play with you."

The group swallowed the news, a very bad feeling settling in their stomach. How did this fit into all of it? Wasn't this supposed to be a regular homicide? How was this becoming a game of their own lives and deaths?

The killer leaned down to Malcolm, to whisper something in his ear, though it was audible to everyone. "Spoiler alert! You will lose..." Malcolm swallowed down the bile, his only wish to have distance again.

"But enough talking! We have to talk all day long..." The killer whined like a small child that didn't get the lollipop he wanted while waiting at the counter. His next words didn't help to make him look like the grown man he really was. "I wanna play!" He grinned, a feral spark in his eyes. "And now that we have finally all gathered-" He squeezed Malcolm's chest with one arm and lured out a strangled gasp. " _We_ can start with our first game!" He announced excitedly, unlike the other players, how he loved to call them. "Hol' up-" The killer didn't let JT finish, neither did he give the others a chance to express their shock.

His eyes pierced into the ones of Gil. "Player 1, are you familiar with the concept of _Simon says..._?" Of course Gil knew this game. He had never played it as a kid himself. The first time he heard about it, was from Jackie.

It had been a cold and rainy day, that was finally reaching its end.

_"Where are you driving Gil? You missed our turn." Gil didn't answer, instead he concentrated on the streets of this city he patrolled every day. His wife realized their destination even without him telling it._

_"Oh Gil, I know you're concerned, but I still have groceries in the back of the car. Can't we surprise them some other time?" Jackie proposed with a sweet voice, looking at her husband's concentrated face. "Talk to me hon'." She said, not harsh, but still in a demanding demeanor._

_Finally, the man melted away and he spared a look at his wife mid driving. Every time he saw her perfect face, he remembered why she was the love of his life._

_"He still hasn't said one word." Gil opened his concerns for her, frowning sadly. Jackie leaned back into her seat. She started staring into nothing, losing herself in thoughts. Still, Gil kept rambling. "And Ainsley's starting to make her own friends now, since no one wants to play with her. She calls him Mr. Boots." Gil filled her in with the latest information Jessica had given him during their phone call._

_"I know you told me to stop losing myself in other family's business, but I'm worried. I can't seem to let go." Gil confessed, the panic leading to a rise of his voice._

_Jackie positioned her head to look out of the window. "Sometimes I think you don't want to let go." She muttered in response._

_Gil looked at her and immediately back to the road because of the red light. "What?" He stammered in disbelief. Jackie closed her eyes._

_"He is the son to you I could never give you." She whimpered._

_Gil opened his eyes in distress and stopped the car. "Don't be silly, honey. This isn't about this. It's about my stupid son, er I mean job, that I just can't shut down to think about anything else than my work, I mean... Wait, yes, I mean work in fact." Gil stammered in distress, his cheeks all red._

_Jackie finally looked back at him and chuckled. At least her husband was embarrassingly obvious when he tried to lie. She took his big hand and he squeezed hers reassuringly. She opened her mouth. "You should... it's green..." She mumbled instead and pulled her hand back and left it to rest on her lap. Gil sighed and set his car back into action._

_"Gil, Jackie, what a surprise!" Jessica Whitley greeted them excitedly like she always did. It was a wonder to them how she always managed to pull that cheerful mask on. She kept saying that a constant sad mood was bad for your skin and left it to age quicker. Still, this act was definitely the wrong way to cope with this extraordinary situation. She seemed cold and heartless. Gil would bet that was one of the reasons Malcolm kept his distance from her and refused to open up. The kid was bright, not only for his age but in general. He was only coping very hard with the arrest of his father and the isolation. The drastic change of his mother's demeanor couldn't be considered as helping, rather reminding._

_"Come in, we were about to dine, and we have enough for everyone." She immediately left them standing at the entrance and moved back inside, the glass of Bourbon dancing in her free hand. Jackie shot Gil a look, realizing that Jessica knew they would come for the evening and he still didn't tell her. Gil shrugged innocently and removed his jacket, his wife following lead._

_Gil observed Malcolm while eating, so did Jackie. Surely the food was delicious. Such things are assured when you can afford yourself a cook like Jessica Whitley. Malcolm didn't even touch the fork. He stared at his food, but at the same time not. His mind was somewhere else. Gil was actually afraid to guess what was going on in the boy's head._

_Jessica stopped in her carefree conversation with them and caught them eyeing her son with concern instead of listening to her. She sighed heavily. Feeling caught both Arroyos turned their head down to their own food. Jessica leaned to her son and urged him to eat. "Come on Malcolm, you need to eat at least a little bit." She took his fork and placed it in his hand. He didn't drop it, but he also eyed it with confusion. As if he didn't know what he should do with it in the first place. After a little while he dug the fork in his food, only using it to push the food from one side to another. Ainsley glanced confused at her mother, not understanding her brother's weird behavior. Gil didn't miss the wet shimmer in Jessica's eyes, as being a mother took again a great toll on her mental stability._

_"So, I heard you got promoted." Jessica yet again placed the mask over her face and changed the subject. Gil couldn't bring himself to fake a smile as well. He watched her tiredly and sighed, realizing how he had lost the appetite as well._

_"Mommy, I need to pee." Ainsley's soft little voice broke the silence. Visible panic rushed through Jessica, eventually getting overwhelmed with the situation._

_"I can handle that." Jackie offered all of a sudden, the surprise even on her own face visible. She stood up, Ainsley immediately following lead. Jessica and Gil smiled gratefully at her. Jackie's look wandered down to Malcolm who still daggered into his food. She sighed, probably considering it was best to let her husband handle Miss Whitley alone._

_"Come on Malcolm. You can wash your hands and then we can play something." She offered kindly and stretched her hand out to the boy. Ainsley started whooping excitedly and jumped towards the bathroom, always looking if Aunt Jackie really followed with her brother in tow._

_Once the three were gone, Jessica's mask shattered to the ground. She hid her eyes temporarily in her palms and sighed shakily. "I can't do this anymore, Gil, I- I-" Gil took her by her wrists and looked into her wet eyes._

_"You're doing great Jessica. You're a strong woman and you can do this. All you need to do is to be there for them. The rest will happen on its own." Gil reassured her in a calm voice. Jessica took fast and shallow breaths, which almost ended in a laugh._

_"Things will never be normal again, Gil. He destroyed them. He destroyed my children and Malcolm will suffer as long as he lives." She gasped out enraged and pulled her arms away from Gil's soft grip._

_She stood up and walked to the closet, which Gil already knew as the alcohol closet. He jumped up and blocked the path, Jessica almost walking into him. "He may have ruined Malcolm's childhood. But he didn't ruin him." Gil spoke and it really seemed to reach Jessica's stubborn brain. "Malcolm is made of tougher stuff. He has a lot to cope with right now, because he doesn't understand, but it will get better. I know it feels impossible because he has been like this for weeks, but as long as there are people who love and believe in him, I promise, he will come back." Gil laid his hands on her shoulders and debated in his brain if he should also hug her. Seeing Jessica's eyes, he knew the comfort had reached her and gave her the power to keep going._

_She opened her mouth to get a thank you over her tongue but lost her breath at the sound. Gil's head snapped into the direction. The unknown noise was first considered as a possible threat in his work brain. That was nonsense. It was a child laughing. It wasn't Ainsley, who giggled shortly after. It was a boy. Gil and Jessica shared a glance, knowing there was only one boy in this household, where rarely true happiness was to find since the incident._

_They both set moving and rushed to the living room. Jackie was sitting on the carpet and smiling at the two children next to her. Ainsley was giggling excitedly and couldn't contain her childish joy._

_"Jump on one foot." Jackie hummed and immediately the little girl did as they were told. She hopped happily, let alone the physical action sending joy through her body. Malcolm remained glued to the floor, but that was normal. The weird thing was the shy laugh that burst out of him. Jackie joined with him. "Wha?" Ainsley slurred confused but looking upon her mischievous grinning brother she figured out herself. "Oh No!" She shouted out in played frustration and lured out a louder laugh from Malcolm._

_Jessica looked at Gil in confusion, unable to contain her exploding happiness, the shyly quivering smile on her lips. Gil returned the grin and entered the living room, asking the question that both adults were craving to find out. "Uh, what's going on in here?" He asked calmly, a warm smile on his lips._

_Jackie grinned at him, meanwhile Ainsley took the big responsibility in filling them in. "She didn't say Simon says." She pouted and glared at Jackie. "Again." Malcolm snickered into his open palm and earned a frustrated playish push from his little sister. Jessica smiled with a wide-open mouth at the unbelievable scene in front of her eyes._

_"We're playing Simon says." Jackie explained and smirked at the kids. "And so far, Malcolm is pretty good at it." She added. The pride in the little boy's face was clearly visible to all of them.  
"He's cheating." Ainsley claimed jealously and earned an annoyed glare from her older brother. Now it was her time to snicker maliciously while Malcolm found back a soft smile. _

_Gil smiled at the scene and looked back at his amazing wife. "Simon says?" He asked quietly, but Jackie was keen on presenting the fact Gil didn't know the famous child's play to all of them._

_"You don't know the game as well?" She gasped loudly and stemmed her fists on her hips. The action caught Ainsley's attention. The energetic kid jumped on the spot, squirming she wanted to teach Gil how to play it. "Go on, sweetie." Jackie encouraged her, and the five-year-old girl hopped to the man._

_"One person is Simon, and Simon says what the others have to do. And then the others do what Simon said." Jackie was about to throw something in, but there was no way Ainsley was going to lose her spotlight. "And if Jackie doesn't say Simon says, we don't have to do it." She added quickly with a lopsided grin. Gil nodded and unwillingly had to smile._

_"What do you think kids? Should we let the old rabbits play with us?" Jackie joked and grinned challenging at both adults. Jessica widened her eyes and was about to pass the offer, but Gil was quicker. "Yes! Definitely!" He answered for both of them and dodged Jessica's glare._

_Ainsley took her brother by her hand and produced a circle with Jackie, pretending to think about the matter. "What do you think?" She asked into the round. "Should we let them in?" She cast a suspicious glance behind her at Gil and Jessica and back to Malcolm. She nodded in affirmation after the silence Malcolm offered. "Yes, I think so, too." She answered and turned around._

_"We are fine with you joining us, but Malcolm meant only when you say please." The girl crossed her arms and waited expectantly. Malcolm facepalmed behind her, pretty sure he hadn't said a damn thing. The scene brought all adults to laugh it away._

_Gil shared a look with Jessica and readied himself for what they were forced to do. "Please." Both begged in a played whine. Ainsley assured herself that the others were okay with the offer and accepted their efforts._

_Minutes later Gil found himself standing on one leg next to Jessica and Malcolm and one finger on his nose. It was a weird thing to do in his normal evenings and something he definitely wouldn't have expected. Jessica lost the balance on her high-heels and bumped into him. He swayed to the opposite side but was steadied by a small hand on his hip. He smiled down at Malcolm and the boy returned it._

It was the first time Gil had played Simon says, or at least Jackie's version of it, since no one had to lose or win. The idea was a stroke of genius to get the young Whitley to smile and laugh again. She didn't treat him like a problem. She included him in normal and fun activities. He got to forget his problems for an evening before he was plagued by night terrors again, the same night. Simon says was a game that awakened positive memories in Malcolm and Gil. When he looked this monster into his eyes, he feared he could never see the innocence of this game like he used to.

"What are you getting at?" Gil growled protectively, the memory of his beloved wife stabbing his already broken heart. The killer raised one eyebrow, not missing how he found a wound point within the lieutenant. The fact lured a malicious grin on his face, and he was looking forward to breaking them.

"You didn't answer my question." He hummed. Gil glared at him and looked for assistance from his detectives. Unfortunately, they couldn't provide him with a bit of better advice either.

"Yes, I know the game." He groaned. The killer gave him the look, that delivered a chastising _'See? Was that so hard?'_. Gil hated this guy.

The killer shrugged his shoulders in relief. "Then I don't think I have to explain the rules of the game." He spoke into the round, looking at everyone once. He looked back to Gil and chuckled unwillingly. "Don't take my doubts on you personally. It's just, you're so _old_." He exaggerated mockingly. Gil's hand rushed to his gun, but before he could pull it out, he felt JT's hand on his arm, one look signaling him to 'chill'. Gil took a deep breath and did as he was advised to. This man called himself the Game Master, it was to be expected that he played with them, messed with them.

"But I have to warn you, my version is a little bit different. I customized it to the situation, you know." He pointed down to the knife on Bright's throat and shrugged a typical _'Well what can I do'_. He waited for them to show some equal signs for understanding, but therefore he could wait long, if not forever. He shrugged it off easily.

"The thing is, this dude here-" He pointed with his head to Bright. "-is too smart for this." As much as some of them, okay maybe only JT, hated to admit it, these were no news to them. So they patiently waited for the man to continue his beloved monologue. He did, with pleasure. "This is a problem for me, for our whole quality time, and I really don't want him dead." The man laughed during his ramble. He let it seem casual and carefree, but everything dropped by the next sentence.

"So I want him off this case."

Bright widened his eyes. Gil was fully aware the kid didn't want to get off this case. Neither wanted the team that right now. They could really need their profiler now, especially since this wasn't just a regular homicide anymore. This was a declaration of war against them, the major crimes unit. And their criminal seemed to be armed with more than just weapons. He probably had an equally sharp mind like Bright's. Malcolm was their greatest weapon in this hunt and Gil really couldn’t afford to lose him. The problem is, he knew Malcolm since he was a kid. He was still his kid to him. There was nothing left in this world for which he cared so much since Jackie's death. He would do anything to protect his stupid son, even if it meant taking him off the case in which they were all going to die in the end.

"Simon says Malcolm Bright is off this case." The psychopath sing sang his demand. He enjoyed the distraught faces of all players, especially Malcolm's. He looked at him a little bit too long, a little bit too intense. But he had formed his conclusion. He looked back up at his players.

"One of you is going to break my demand." He announced, the group visibly tensing up. He looked Gil into his eyes. "The responsible one will suffer the consequences." He growled dangerously, making Gil step backward, just a little.

His head crept down to Malcolm's ear, his beard scratching his skin. Was this already a nightmare? Or had it yet to begin? The Game Master chuckled warm breath into his ear. Malcolm had no idea, just how bad the situation was they were in.

"Let's see how Bright you really are, Whitley."

The lights exploded with a bang. Malcolm's scream echoed through the store, but it was pitch black. Where were the streetlights? The police cars? Where was everything all of a sudden? Where was Bright?

JT was the first to sprint towards the place the killer had kept Bright. Of course it was empty. He was so caught up in the stress, he barely felt Dani running into him when she had the same idea as him. She bumped back into another body. Unlike Gil she regained her balance and didn't meet the ground. Instead she fumbled for a phone to put on her flashlight.

Gil landed on something soft, yet he still cut his finger on something. He felt for it and felt cards. Playing cards? And so many of them. Where did they all come from?

He was temporarily blinded by a stray flashlight. He turned his head away and looked eye in eye with the corpse. Something took over him. He screamed. Backed away from the corpse, his hands catching new cuts from all the cards, again where did they come from?

He bumped against something, which was apparently Dani Powell. She dropped her mobile in shock, the flashlight disappearing with a crush. Sadly it didn't stay dark for very long. The TVs jumped back into life, all of them at the same time. So did the sound boxes at each corner, making sure they didn't miss the continuation of Bright's screams.

Until they did.

The screams disappeared, were exchanged with small strangled noises. Wherever they looked, Bright's face was on every screen. His head laid sprawled on the floor. His blue eyes were wide open in shock. His mouth slightly opened. The pair of hands squeezing his throat sure gave him a hard time.

"Nooo!" Gil screamed desperately, crashing against the nearest screen in irritation. He saw him die, wherever he looked he saw him dying! But where was the monster doing this to him? Where was his Malcolm? How was he supposed to protect him if he didn't know where he was?!

"JT! Is there a back door?!" Dani shouted to her reentering colleague. He had checked the manager's room. It only made sense the killer left this way. If he left at all because he was choking Bright live. He couldn't have gone this far-

It was over. As sudden as it had started it also ended. Suddenly every screen was black again. All noises were muted. Bright was gone. Was he also dead? Because they didn't save him in time?

Gil felt the power rush out of his body. Every little hope shattered. His only luck and happiness in his miserable life was gone. In a matter of seconds, he lost everything. Again.

His knees started burning when he fell on them with the full force of his body. "Gil..." Dani sobbed and crouched down to her mentor. There was nothing she could say or even wanted to say. The inevitable fact hurt her as much as Gil. But she swore to herself she wouldn't lose herself in that hole. No one would be there to pull her out of it.

"We're going to catch this guy." JT mumbled less confident than usual and placed one hand on Gil's shoulder. Gil formed the word no with his lips, but no sound escaped. There was nothing left worth fighting for. It was over. For him, it was over with no turning back.

Gil noticed the screens flaring back into life. He didn't want to see for what purpose they were awakened again. These TV screens were misused for the worst things. That concept didn't change all of a sudden.

"That sick bastard." JT growled near his tears himself. He couldn't pull his eyes away from the motionless Bright, trapped in what looked like a peaceful slumber. Dani lost it. She buried her eyes inside her palms. She couldn't see it anymore.

So naturally Gil was the only one left to notice one streetlight starting to shine again. He stared captivated at the illuminated place, drawn to it like a moth. Then it finally made _click_ in his brain. The black mass on the ground wasn't just anything. It was a human body.

"Malcolm..." Gil murmured in realization. His detectives looked at him, then followed to where his eyes were captivated.

As if stung by an adder Gil jumped to his feet and stormed outside of the store. He nearly fell on his nose, but somehow he safely reached the other side of the street without getting hit by a car. The street was abandoned. It was only him and Malcolm. He scooped up the limp boy and embraced him tightly. He cried into his jacket on his smaller shoulder, the relief was just too overwhelming. Dani and JT reached them, immediately checking on Bright's pulse. Gil cursed himself how easily he had forgotten about this important procedure.

Dani let go and smiled relieved at the good sign. His kid, his kid was still alive. Spontaneously she hugged Gil for his and her own emotional support. The shock had hit them hard and merciless. They still weren't over it yet, and maybe they would never recover from this immense shock. For one moment Malcolm had been dead in their minds. Only a few seconds. It was enough to break something deep inside of them.

None of it mattered right now at this moment. He was here. He was in his arms and very much alive. His throat started to show the first signs of abuse that had been done to it. It was vulnerable to the touch, so fragile. His neck was beginning to swell and turn into a violent shade of red. Soon there would be visible bruises of their killer's hands, effusions of blood. He could temporarily lose the ability to speak normally due to a contusion on his laryngeal. But all these things, they were able to surpass them. Gil was happy about every consequence that followed for them, mostly concerning for Bright, only to know he was still alive.

JT crouched down to the three of them but didn't join the crying. It took a lot more to bring JT to tears and right now he knew he couldn't act weak. He had to be strong for his three friends. When he would arrive back home, to his wonderful wife Tally, he could finally drop the strong act and recover. Yet he was still here, armed with his gun and badge and had to act if the others didn't. "Ambulance is already on its way." He informed his crying boss, which was a weird situation for him to be in. "Thanks." Gil croaked, too occupied feeling his kid in his arms. JT granted him this.

Soon the familiar lightning of police cars and ambulances filled the abandoned alleyway. Dani moved to the side to wink them to the right place. Easily Bright was loaded into the bus.

Gil craved to be with him, to keep an eye on him. But he wasn't here as a civilian. He was here as lieutenant Arroyo and he had a damn job to do, for example questioning where all his officers had disappeared during their talk with the killer. He couldn't push this duty on his detectives. He didn't doubt they had the qualities to become a lieutenant themselves one day, of course not. But he was aware of how much work and responsibility this job carried along. He wanted them to enjoy their time as detectives.

So he sent Dani with Bright to the hospital, seeing how grateful she was for the task by the shimmer in her eyes. He told JT to go home and get some sleep, but JT insisted on staying with him and helping. Gil was glad for the team he had. They really were in this one together.

Which could be seen as positive as also terribly negative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I just realized that TODAY the new season airs. And it hurts so much because I do not live in the United States. Which means I probably have to wait for ANOTHER WHOLE YEAR!! (unless I find other options...)  
> I'm just going to leave this with *crying noises*  
> See you on Thursday...


	4. Chapter 3

Drastically his eyelids jumped up, his head snapping back to its former place. He shook his head, trying to shake off the drowsiness. As if it could disappear into thin air. For a second it worked. Then his head gained back on weight. He focused his vision by blinking rapidly, meaningless tears swelling up in his eyes. They were trained onto the motionless body in the hospital bed. It was his boy, he could see that within one second, no matter how much of the respiratory mask covered his face.

He seemed to be trapped in a peaceful slumber. For now. It was a matter of time before his memories would catch up to him and would send him screaming and crying.

Gil wanted to be there for him when that happened. Although he knew damn well he had work to do. It was his responsibility they caught the man who did this to his kid. Also to prevent more victims of course.

He could still see him when he closed his eyes. His kid looking his tormentor into his eyes while he was gasping for air, slowly realizing he was gliding into his own death.

Again Gil Arroyo woke up from a short nap. He blinked the fogginess away and investigated the room for any changes. Or possible threats in worst-case scenarios. Although, if the killer wanted Malcolm dead he sure would be.

To his own surprise, he actually detected a change in this clinical room. She stared back at him with severity in her eyes. "You should go home and rest." She advised coldly. Or at least exhausted. Nothing had been the same after the encounter. Only hours had passed ever since, though in reality it felt like days.

Gil rubbed his eyes and sat back more straight on his uncomfortable hospital chair. "Did you contact Ms. Whitley or his sister?" He dodged Dani's question and got back to work.

Dani didn't even try to hide her annoyance. She rolled her eyes and looked at Malcolm for a few seconds. "We meant to send two officers, but it's still deep in the night." She started and returned her gaze back to Gil. "He's not dying, so this isn't too urgent to wake both of them." Gil nodded in understanding. Maybe all of the Whitleys were meant to rest this night.

They must've talked a little while, Dani and Gil. Or not, because they both fell asleep minutes later. They were cramped uncomfortably in their seats, but their exhaustion demanded no luxury as a cure. Just a little bit of sleep in the night, like it was supposed to be. Both of them missed Malcolm's awakening. They didn't sleep too sound, they would've heard Malcolm if he would've produced a commotion. For once he didn't. He was woken by a pain in his throat. It reminded him of these days, you wake up and just know you're sick. And then you will be plagued by the typical symptoms of a cold or worse the entire day long.

So Malcolm was annoyed when he woke up. He didn't feel like coughing, but his throat hurt maniacally when he attempted to swallow. He needed a glass of water, but damn he was too tired to get out of his bed. Which was kind of concerning, since he always jumped out of his bed after a 'good' old nightmare.

Malcolm forced his eyes open, motivated by the fear of having his regular night terrors after all. His eyes wandered confused through the quiet and barely lightened room. Outside the door was a warm light, a woman in white clothes dashed past his room, which was mostly enlightened by the full moon outside. For a moment his gaze was fixed on that. If this moment took a few minutes, Malcolm wasn't so sure.

Somehow, all of it was still a blur. His head lolled to his side, his neck protesting dramatically. The clock on the nightstand showed the time 4:37am in aggressive red digital numbers. A move to the other side revealed a bunch of machines and whatever things that were too complicated for Bright's brain at the moment.

He groaned exhausted, slowly really feeling for a glass of water. With everything he got he worked himself to sit up straight. He leaned against the wall and sighed relieved. He searched for a glass of water on his nightstand. Sadly he didn't find one.

Eventually it dawned on him, that currently, he wasn't in his loft. That was definitely the hospital. Why he landed here yet again was still a mystery. Actually, it was fine with him. The pain in his throat minimized, and it was okay to live at the moment. Malcolm chuckled when he found the responsible IV in his wrist, pumping painkillers into his system.

Mechanically Malcolm's head wandered yet again to the bed table. Was there really no glass of water there? He lifted his eyebrows in disbelief, there it stood, a glass of water. How did he miss it before? What the heck were those nurses giving him again, he felt completely high. Not that he could remember a lot from when he really was high.

He stretched to grab that glass, careful not to drop it. It swayed dangerously in his trembling hand, but in the end arrived safely on his lap. He was a little bit proud of his little success, but at the same time he didn't care. He forgot what he was up to and stared into the moon outside the window until his eyes burned. Did he forget to blink as well? His chin dropped to his chest. He frowned. Why was he holding a glass?

Malcolm found a nightstand and put the glass of water there. He was wondering what time it was. He looked at the digital clock, but if you would ask him for the time, he would shrug in ignorance.

He discovered two people sleeping in chairs in front of him. They hadn't noticed him yet. He thought about making himself present, but for what use? He frowned at the man, seriously asking himself if this was Elvis Presley sleeping there. He couldn't get himself to care. The swaying closet was more interesting. He didn't have a closet like that. He put the issue aside. The wooden cabinet was just breathing.

He swallowed and it hurt. He could really use a glass of- Something seemed to repeat itself. Maybe it was only a feeling. Malcolm grinned in delight when he found a glass of water next to his bed on a small table. There even was a digital clock. He wondered what time it was.

He took the glass and forgot the time. He froze confused when he held the glass to his lips, but everything stayed dry. He blinked perplexedly. The glass in his hand was now empty. But his blanket was wet. Malcolm's hand wandered up to his mouth, but instead of feeling soft lips, he felt hard plastic.

His head bumped against the wall behind him and he groaned frustrated by his own stupidity. Now he was minus one glass of water and still had a raspy throat. He tried to rid himself of that stupid mask, but his hand-to-eye coordination really wasn't on point.

The dryness of his throat eventually provoked him to cough it away. Dani's eyes fluttered open. She left her dreamless slumber and was delighted to see Bright awake, but surprisingly calm.

She leaned to Gil and shook his arm to wake him up. He jerked awake as if he got caught snoring. They didn't feel much like talking, so she pointed with her head to Bright.

Gil jumped up from his chair, startling Bright who was staring into nothing. "You're awake." He croaked the dry statement, clearing his throat to get a stronger voice. He was exploding with happiness but tried to hide it. It was in the middle of the night and Bright still wasn't really there yet. His eyes were trained on Gil, but not really focused.

Gil's eyes wandered down to Bright's lap, where an empty glass rested between his hands. Dani made signs of standing up, Gil quickly grabbed the assignment. "I'll get you another one." He said and disappeared out of the room, where he could finally cheer in private.

Bright and Dani shared a glance. She guessed they were thinking the same thing. What a weird behavior for Gil. Apparently they weren't, as Malcolm looked her dead in the eyes and seriously asked.

"Was that just Elvis Presley?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, this chapter is pretty short. So here, take this little story (that will turn out HUGE in this layout, but I don't care).  
> What happened with Malcolm was 90% me when I had my wisdom teeth pulled out. The only difference, I was super paranoid. The second I woke up I wanted to run away. I even went to lengths like tricking my mother. Pretending I'm asleep and then RUN. Yeah, I didn't even make it up. She put one hand over me as I lifted in slow motion, and I gave up so quickly.  
> To the water glass. I was really annoying, like one moment I wanted to drink, the other I refused. My poor mother went nuts.  
> The funniest part: There was a face on the clock. And I thought, I shit you not, I thought it was Elvis Presley. I don't remember if it was him, but I do remember asking my mother several times, until she snapped really frustrated.   
> ...  
> And then I just asked again.  
> To this day I still don't remember the time, neither if Elvis Presley really was on the clock.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally know how many chapters to go!!! 40 chapters, it's like a destiny!   
> ...  
> so many...

"Absolutely not! I didn't come to visit you to welcome you back into the case."

Gil raged furiously, walking from right to left in this tiny room. He had expected to find Malcolm still in his bed. Apparently his stupid profiler was already dressed in his signature suit and ready to leave the hospital.

Malcolm glared disappointed at his boss, but Gil told himself to be strong. He wouldn't let Malcolm back on board. Only when this ‘Game Master case’ would be closed and out of their lives. And he was very determined, even when Bright hid his red swollen neck in a ruffle. As if things never happened.

"He almost killed you already!" Gil pointed out. Malcolm just shrugged, there wasn't much he could do anyway. He was told not to talk for the following days, to spare his bruised laryngeal from further damage during its healing process. Neither way he wasn't eager to speak. He barely got a word with a decent volume out and on top of that it hurt. The killer ruined his voice temporarily and he was better off muted than trying it.

That's why he was given a notebook. He clicked the Biro open and started scribbling. Gil waited patiently. When he finished he held it up for Gil to read. Gil shook his head disapprovingly.

"No, the doctor released you so you could rest at home. He didn't clear you for work yet." He replied. Malcolm shrugged his shoulders, his mimic signalizing a 'tomayto tomato'.

Before Gil could even think of scolding him, Malcolm was back writing again. Gil took a deep breath. He could still talk to Malcolm, instead they waited in silence until Malcolm was done. Malcolm showed the words he couldn't say. Gil read them silently in his head.

'This killer's mind is very complex. You need me if you want to feel safe again someday.'

Malcolm's words hit him hard and he was debating to leave him now and then. But because he was right, wasn't he?

Gil stayed. He stemmed his fists on his hip, thinking of his next moves. A curse escaped his lips when Malcolm started writing again. He fought the urge to rip the book out of his hands and toss it out of the window, right into a dirty puddle.

"Bright, listen." Gil started. Malcolm stopped writing and looked up from his paper. Gil waited until he laid the book away. "I don't want to take you away either. Don't think your extraordinary mind isn't valued. But your safety is more important to me and if the killer says you're off the case..." Gil shrugged to signal his hands were tied as well. He left the end open, he knew Malcolm could piece it together himself.

Bright signaled him to wait and continued writing. Gil wasn't too surprised that Malcolm already knew what Gil was about to say and didn't have to throw away his former draft.

Gil leaned curiously forward when Malcolm finished. His writing was as always beautiful and elegant, but that wasn't the point right now. The message was more important, and surprising as always.

'The Game Master doesn't want me off this case.' Gil read, immediately forming his own opinion. "But he clearly said Simon s-" Malcolm motioned him annoyed to continue reading. Gil considered it to be the most logical thing to do. data-p-id=66953558dfa85e96b4df24c65083426c,'If I really were an immediate danger, he would've killed me. But he didn't. He started this round with the first game Simon says. He punished the one to break what Simon said. I paid with my voice, he stole it temporarily. That's my punishment. He knew I wouldn't get off this case, even if he told me to. Now this round is over. His words carry no effect anymore and we have time to do our work before the next round begins.'

Gil read it silently. Wordlessly he ripped it out of the notebook and read it again. And another time. Was this the current situation they were in right now? Were they trapped in the middle of a game with a psychopath as the key player? He looked back to Malcolm, who showed him a new message in front of his pleading eyes.

'We are nowhere safe as long as that psychopath is running loose. Let me work on a profile with you guys. Let me help you catch this guy.'


	6. Chapter 5

’He wants to toy with us.’

Silence swallowed the scarcely lightened room. Several pairs of eyes blinked perplexed at the white billboard. Taking in the thin black letters and the meaning it delivered. It was horrifying. It settled into their rational minds, filling it with sense. Still it felt so wrong. So unbelievable. Untrue. It _didn't_ make sense to them. How could this be possible?

"He wants to play?" The lieutenant cleared his throat in order to recapture their latest gained information. Which was only speculation by the way, so it didn't have to mean anything yet. His detectives would agree with their whole heart, as detective Tarmel added a shocked "With us?!" into the room. He exchanged puzzled looks with his female colleague, trying to find a sign in her dark eyes. A sign for a prank. That their consultant was joking them. But Malcolm Bright doesn't do jokes. He's terrible at it.

The man next to the billboard nodded in confirmation, underlining the severity of this situation with a stern facial expression. First signs of panic traveled through the group, who normally weren't used to be in this position. They were instantly disposed of their occupational control.

"Wha- bu- what is- How is that-" Bright raised one eyebrow at JT's helpless stuttering. He could see the cop already sweating, even from the distance. The times his eyes wandered off to the door doubled itself. The distress was expectable, still surprising to the profiler, given he had never seen JT in such a mood.

He was startled out of his profiling when two open palms met violently with the table. "That doesn't make any sense!", Dani snapped frustrated. She usually didn't show the temper to jump off her seat and make such noise. She was a very composed woman, for which she was very proud. Losing this ability only showed the effects of stress on her individually.

Bright strictly reprimanded himself to stop over analyzing his team members again. He was once told people felt uncomfortable about it. Friends shouldn't profile their friends, and he dearly wanted to learn how to treat friends correctly. He especially didn't want to chase anyone away again, as he did with Eve on their first date.

Dani pulled the profiler back into reality. "What about the real victim, and-" She lost her breath mid-sentence when her look fell on her friend's neck. Malcolm observed the desperate shimmer in her dark eyes, that told more than words ever could. As she was trapped between what next to say or do, Malcolm took over the responsibility for her. He merely shrugged his shoulders, but it was his sad smile that delivered his message.

'Wrong place, wrong time'

His hand wandered unavoidably up to his bright white collar, covering fully his neck. He knew that he couldn't say the same for himself as he did for the victim. He was very well wanted at the crime scene. So were his teammates, only that they weren't able to see it as clearly as the profiler did.

Dani Powell opened her mouth, but Bright didn't need to hear her apologies. He really didn't. So he turned around and showed them his back to dismiss them. He wasn't sure how well they understood his unspoken messages. They weren't psychological experts like him. They were detectives, which gladly also spoke for a lot of intelligence.

Therefore, the room stayed quiet, except for the screaming writing noises the profiler caused with the black pen and his whiteboard. It was his only chance to explain his newest profile to his team. They needed to catch that guy. If not for the sake of innocent bystanders, then for their own lives. This killer wasn't one of the ordinary kind. And he wasn't shy to present it to the whole world.

What concerned Bright most, was that he oddly felt familiar profiling their newest killer. Of course, first might guess that he must've met him somewhere in his forgotten past, because, well, he has a serial killer for a father. Bright didn't know their murderer. At least not in person. But his first profiling attempts listed up some shocking news.

He was a dark mirror.

They were oddly alike if you ignored the sides both had chosen. So shouldn't it be easy to catch someone as smart as you? It definitely wasn't, especially not since their murderer had advantages. The event was planned, everything detailed into the tiniest point. As if the unknown man, probably even in Bright's age, wanted it to be fail-proof. Because he only had one chance. Because there was only one Gil Arroyo, one JT Tarmel, one Dani Powell and one Malcolm Bright. But why them?

Bright risked a glance back to his team, who observed him with utter trust in their eyes. The fear of disappointing them was scary. They became part of his family and he needed to protect them, at all cost. He looked back at his profile, which wasn't perfect. It didn't feel right yet. But it was a step forward. His hand went up to his neck brace, as he swallowed painfully, still feeling the pair of hands embracing his throat, nails digging in. He took a shaky breath, glad to feel the oxygen rush in.

They were moving forward. He didn't know yet it was hell they were moving to.

"Why would he choose us?"

Malcolm got thrown back by the question. The problem was, he didn't know the answer to Dani's question himself. Was it a coincidence? Hate for Major crimes? Or was it possible again because of Bright's family situation? Whatever it was, he didn't know. They didn't have enough information yet to give a safe statement. So he simply shrugged, not revealing all of his thoughts to his members yet.

"Alright." Gil sighed after the whole group had taken in the modified profile of their killer. Nothing much had changed since Bright's premature profile from the first day. It was good that he repeated all the information for them, there was no way they could remember everything.

In the end they didn't move a single step towards the killer. A middle-aged and unsuspicious man? That could be literally anybody in New York. A phantom picture was already created but brought no further help. Several people called in, claiming it was their suspicious neighbor, boss, colleague, or even janitor. So many calls arrived, but it was a dead-end in most cases. This man had an ‘everybody's’ face.

Malcolm trained his eyes onto the new speaker. He was open to criticism, not always happy, but at least open. Gil didn't want to, Bright saw it the way Gil took a breath and turned his head but forced himself back. Before Gil had even said anything Bright knew it was bad news.

"This is all good and interesting, but how does it help us catch that guy?" Gil eventually confessed. Bright took the hit without having something to counter back. Gil was right. And truth to be told, this situation right now had been inevitable. What were they going to do, without any clues? Where would they investigate? Where would they find the killer, not only on the billboard but in real life?

Bright lowered his head as much as his neck brace allowed it. He didn't know the answer. Panic rushed through his veins, like in school back in the old days, when he had to think of an answer spontaneously. His brain shut down and refused to think of any ideas in the first place. The only thing spooking through his brain was the multiplying demand to think of something and answer the question.

"We could look into the suspects we gained from the picture." Dani tried to help Malcolm out. JT mixed in. "You have any idea how many calls come in every day?" He was standing next to Dani with his arms crossed. "It's like half of New York is responsible for the murder."

Dani nodded with a forced facial expression. It was frustrating to be out of plans. It was frightening for Bright to be out of plans. But they had to do something. They couldn't just wait until the next round began. They needed to build up advantages to be even able to compete against the Game Master.

Bright struck a sudden idea that appeared out of nowhere. He hated it, but he knew that was the only option they got. They had too less information about everything that associated with the killer's private or public life. The hard thing would be to win over his team members if he himself wasn't even fully convinced. But that should be manageable, or at least he thought so.

He turned around to write his idea so he could present it afterward to them. He heard the relief washing over his colleagues behind him. If this situation wasn't so serious, he'd be utterly excited to observe the relief crashing into millions of shards.

Sheepishly he turned around and stepped aside to let them read. He prepared himself for the indignation. At least he could watch their expressions, as they dropped from relief to utter horror. JT was first to announce his disbelief at Bright.

"Are you nuts?!" He blurted out before Dani jumped out of her seat. She stammered for the right words. Gil had fewer problems finding them and actually saying it. "Are you out of your mind?" Bright rolled his eyes, still a smile on his lips. These words always sound so Dad on Gil. The next words kicked the smile out of his face.

"First you hand us a profile, then you suggest working against it?"

Most people in the FBI described his methods as unconventional. Alright, truth to be told, everyone he ever worked with carried that opinion. Bright never declined any accuses of that kind. He wasn't blind. He knew that he was different. That he didn't share the same values and beliefs. He never made himself friends by being different and not forcing himself to hide it. But something like ignoring his own profile was even preposterous for him. Yet it was the only idea for which he saw light at the end of the tunnel.

More or less confidently he marched back to the billboard to give them an explanation. He bit his lip. There were so many things bubbling in his head, but he needed to minimize all of it in a short text. Being silenced was one of the worst disabilities the killer could have chosen.

His eyes wandered up to his former sentence. 'Let's investigate the case as we always do. As if the murder was personal.' Bright shook his head. Even with the 'As if' he wasn't sure if he was about to embarrass himself or actually pose a real threat to the killer.

He sighed and started writing under the first statement. This was bad. His plan was less of an attempt to catch the killer, but more to accept to this sick game. Malcolm's stomach protested at the thought of that. 'Don't throw up', said the whispering mantra while he wrote on the billboard. As he was slowly signing up for all the horrible things that would happen to his team and innocent bystanders. The guilt weighed a ton on his shoulders, and that already in advance. How would he be able to move on if another one had to die for his decision? Or if even his friends would get hurt? All of it because he didn't find a better solution than to play their killer right into his hands. For what? For information the killer is allowing them to work with?

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked Gil into his eyes when he turned around. Had he been spacing out? If yes, for how long? Gil didn't say anything, just moved him slightly out of the way to have a look on Bright's thoughts. His head sunk in shame when his boss took in his train of thoughts. He barely noticed the calls JT made, something like Bright.exe or else.

The anticipation of Gil's opinion was taking all of his interest. It was killing him. Gil didn't look away, but Bright knew he had finished by the look of his face. He was debating on what to tell him. Or maybe kindly reject him. Whatever it was, it took time to think over it and shouldn't be spoken carelessly. Bright caught himself again spacing out when Gil's hand startled him another time.

'It's alright. I understand.'

Was Bright misinterpreting Gil's facial expression or was it the truth? Could a normal person even understand him, when he didn't understand himself what was going on? Probably not, but he could count for support from his friends, although they had trouble following his wrecked mind.

"It's alright, we'll do it." Gil decided. Dani and JT spared him a look full of disbelief. They had read it, too.

"You mean playing into the killer's hand now?" JT checked doubtingly. He exchanged stressful glances with Dani.

Gil nodded. "It doesn't sound promising, but it's better than to do nothing and wait for the next victim. Who knows, maybe the killer really wants us to find him, like Bright expects." He shrugged before turning back to Bright.

"The thing is, the killer is also human."

Malcolm took a shuddering breath and waged his head with a forced smile, delivering an _'Unfortunately'_. Gil shook his head in disagreement.

"Fortunately. He is human, so he will make mistakes. That is when we will strike." Gil announced enthusiastically. Motivation flowed through his veins, which jumped over to Dani and JT.

Gil turned around and spread his orders as usual. The two detectives left the room to attend to their new assignments. Malcolm forced a smile and nodded when Gil addressed him about their own assignment. Gil left shortly after to do something in his office before he'd pick up Bright and drive to the victim's house. The young profiler exhaled heavily when he was left alone in their conference room.

'Wait until the killer makes a mistake, hu?', he thought pessimistically. He scooped up his coat and headed for the exit, one thought nagging on his mind nonstop.

What if there wasn't enough time for them to wait for a mistake on the killer's side?


	7. Chapter 6

Naturally they spent the ride in silence, which was understandable. One of them was muted and the other one had to drive. Even then there wasn't a lot of things lieutenant Arroyo wished to discuss. According to Bright's profile they were chasing a false lead, or worse, playing after the killer's plan. There wasn't much they could do about it.

Gil had tried to cheer up his kid. Maybe there really was something, a clue that could help them identify and catch the responsible criminal. Malcolm had given him a forced smile, it wasn't hard to read the _'sure'_ , underlined with disbelief and insecurity. It was a solid reason for Gil to stop talking, in case he made everything worse than it already was.

They parked at the side of the street. Gil fumbled for his parking reservation, so a possible parking inspector could spare his car. His fingers only met the walls of his vehicle. He leaned back up to see his only passenger smugly waving up the very thing he was searching for. He snatched it with a soft chuckle and placed it on his dashboard. Meanwhile Bright left the car, Gil following close behind.

The cold wind nagged on their exposed skin. Subconsciously Malcolm cuddled further into his jacket, rather observing his visible breath on this brutal December day. Gil grabbed his arm softly. "You good?" Bright nodded briefly and sped up towards the building.

The group was parted. Dani and JT were investigating at their victim's workplace. Checking out his co-workers, his boss or any suspicious affairs. Gil and Malcolm were left with the family duty.

Usually Bright was more interested into these assignments. He had less trouble to see behind a happy family's charade. Today though his motivation lacked a little bit. What was the point in seeing through someone without informing them? Talking to his victims often expanded his profile and lured out even more information. He still had a notebook, neither way his communication skills were disabled in so many ways.

The door jumped open and startled both men. A Latina with curly black hair opened. She was beautiful, but had a distressed look printed on her face. She wasn't exactly thin, maybe she was still fighting against a few baby pounds.

"And you are?" The curvy woman asked right away, close to shutting the door again. Gil revealed his badge on his hip casually as he introduced themselves. "Lieutenant Gil Arroyo. This is the consulting profiler Malcolm Bright. We have a few questions considering your deceased husband." The woman's eyes widened with every new information Gil revealed. Malcolm only nodded politely, it was the least he could do.

"Uh yeah, sure... come in." The woman stammered and turned around her heel. She was quick, rapidly cleaning as necessary as possible. Malcolm detected several toys laying carelessly in the living room. The oak table next to the room was still messy from their last meal, by the looks of it spaghetti. One chair for an infant and five normal ones, although only at three seats plates were left. Or at least three dirty plates, because a fourth was still unused. Either a grumpy teenager spooked in this household, or the plate had been placed out of habit.

"You want coffee? Or water?" The woman glanced hectically between Bright and Arroyo. As much as Bright would have preferred a glass of water to soothe his burning throat, he wasn't willing to give the woman a possible distraction. Or as some might say an excuse to get away from the inevitable interview.

He looked up to Gil who read his mind. Malcolm had plans to avoid scribbling in his notebook as long as possible. He didn't want to scare the woman that the consultant was actually taking notes on their conversation, even if it was only for the simplest communication purposes.

"We're fine, Mrs. Moore-" She waved dismissively and walked over to her guests. "Just Vanessa. Dear, don't make this harder than it already is, Vanessa's just fine." She groaned and sat down on the couch after throwing away some toys. They joined her, opposite from her. The only merciful barrier, a small table.

"For how long have you and Thomas been engaged?" Gil started with a simple question, to get a feeling into this conversation. Bright almost had a full prediction of the following situation after the first reaction on her side. Vanessa blew raspberries, her eyes wandering up as she hopelessly grasped for the right answer. Maybe this lead was interesting after all.

"Oh, honestly I don't really know. Tom and I never really had a count on such things." She laughed awkwardly, her eyes shifting to a closet in the living room. The alcohol closet if Bright wasn't mistaken.

"Such things?" Gil repeated, Bright lifting an eyebrow at Vanessa.

She dodged their eyes. "Ah you know, life changes with kids. Suddenly there are more important things in your life than... some anniversary stuff." She explained.

Gil nodded in understanding, his eyes wandering off to Malcolm, who had right now different things rushing through his brain. If he interpreted this right, Vanessa wasn't going to talk about anniversaries earlier. She caught herself before mentioning her husband. The woman was clearly exhausted and tired, probably thanks to her newborn baby. This whole thing left her irritated. Her husband was dead all of a sudden. Of course she was agitated, troubled. But definitely not sad as far as Bright detected.

He fished out his notebook and starting writing. Expectantly Vanessa glanced shocked into his direction. Gil's facial expression showed mere fascination. He was impressed that Bright already had spotted something unusual in the first question. Bright finished his message and showed it to Gil who read it quickly. He lifted his gaze to meet an even more disturbed wife, her eyes shifting between Gil and Malcom in a matter of seconds.

"I'm sorry, maybe we should've explained first, that my profiler is currently unable to speak." Gil informed Vanessa briefly. She nodded shyly, distracted by Malcolm's calmness as he pointed on his uncomfortable neck brace.

Gil looked back into Bright's notes before forming his own sentence. He took a strong breath. He felt a bit sorry for Vanessa.

"When did your relationship with Thomas start to go downhills?" The silence that took over was heavy, crushing on their shoulders, suddenly making it a little bit harder to breathe than before. The corners of her mouth lifted and sank uncontrollably. She rubbed her sweating palms and fought for words.

"Ha, excuse me? Is this, are you serious?" She stammered. She showed honest signs of confusion, but mostly because she didn't understand how fast the ruse of her happy family fell apart. Gil shrugged, he didn't see a reason why any of them should be in the mood for jokes. It was still a ruthless homicide they were investigating after all.

"No, there was nothing wrong. Obviously there were some up and downs, with the twins, a-and now the baby. You know, all that normal stuff, stress at work or home, not enough sleep." Vanessa rambled nervously. Even Gil was aware that she was concealing the truth of their real relationship right now.

"My consultant pointed out some facts, that may prove this marriage wasn't really full of love anymore. The missing sadness considering your recently deceased husband for example." Gil continued. He exchanged a look with Bright who nodded in approval. "Or the ignorance about personal dates and experiences with him. Marriage is something quite important in someone's life." He explained. Malcolm took a sharp breath as he noticed they had exposed the woman already too much. She was about to snap.

And she did. "So what? Maybe we weren't the cliché couple who bought each other presents on valentine's day! Or, or went to dine in a fancy restaurant at their anniversary. That doesn't mean anything. We loved in our own way. I know he loved me." She exhaled shuddering. Vanessa blinked perplexed when Bright placed his notebook onto the small couch table and moved it towards her.

'Did you also love him?'

Her lip trembled and tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away and dodged everything she associated with the two officers in her living room. Her hands caressed her thighs up to her knees and back in a rapid manner. Eventually she caught herself and faced them again.

"We had our up and downs, but we still loved each other." She answered mechanically. She didn't mean it. Their marriage had been garbage for reasons she kept to herself. Did she hide something behind their perfect marriage, that really consisted a clue? Or was she just desperate to remember a meaningful life after it got ripped away from her grasp?

That was the one thing Bright had to find out. He motioned for Gil to carry on with the other standard questions. Meanwhile he stood up and took a quick look for the apartment. Before Vanessa could protest, Gil wrapped her in his next standard questions.

The answers were irrelevant for Bright. He had all the tools he needed to figure out what seemed off. What he needed right now was a new perspective. A new way of looking at the case, at Thomas and Vanessa Moore. His thoughts wandered to the twins, who he assumed to be in elementary school right now. Maybe they could bring the new perspective that was needed.

Then there was this old-fashioned wall phone.

Bright walked towards the slick black phone. He didn't touch it, but he knew he was close. He was at the switching point from 'warmer' to 'red hot'. The phone had a heavy dust layer on it, so it wasn't used often in this household, which definitely made sense. Right below the wall phone was a table with a more modern phone placed on it. Fully charged in the station. So the dark antique was just for decoration purposes.

He returned his attention back to the older telephone. At some places the dust was uneven. As if someone carefully tried to lift the phone away without disturbing the dust art. Bright tried to take off the whole phone from the wall. It appeared to be an impossible task, at least speaking for half of it. One half got lifted a little bit away from the wall and a small card fell out. It was a business card.

Bright picked up the card with the short catchy slogan and the phone number. He spared a glance at Vanessa and Gil who were engrossed in the interrogation. Slowly it dawned to him. The full length of what Vanessa was able to do.

With what burden she was able to live with.

* * *

Dani and JT had about zero troubles getting into the massive building. One look at their badge and they were granted almost everywhere free entrance. After all, no one wanted to mess with the police, if real or fake.

They were coated in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Either way there wasn't much they wanted to talk about in the first place. The unspoken goal to close this case as fast as possible was their mutual understanding. After all, this killer wasn't after some kills, he was after them in particular. Given Bright was right in the first place. As unconventional his methods were most of the time, he had proven himself to be trustworthy on so many occasions. Naturally this was one of the reasons for them to be doubted by a huge cloud of uneasiness and insecurity. They were literally working against his profile. Saying? This was a waste of time. It was this simple so there was definitely no harm in trying to get over this as fast as possible.

They were stopped as soon as they left the elevator into the warm enlightened office room. A white-haired man walked up to them, a strict severity printed on his elderly face. He wore a casual suit, just like the rest of the businesspeople in this room. "I'm sorry, but you can't enter in here. This is a reserved workplace-"

"We're from the NYPD." Dani cut him off after rolling her eyes in annoyance. She revealed her badge, so did JT. "Detective Powell, this is Detective Tarmel." She introduced themselves, JT lifting his hand as a short form of greeting. Ignoring the businessman Dani put away her badge and continued. "We're here because of Thomas Moore. We would like to ask some questions. Can we talk with the boss of this place?" She became quieter by the end.

Judging by the man's look he was outright disturbed by their appearance. Although they should be informed of the latest news. It took Dani several seconds to understand the issue. To her, this stuff was normal. It wasn't her every day, but happened often enough for it to be considered normal. To them it wasn't. They likely never had so much contact with the executive force, let alone major crimes. The man was at the verge to realize that a part of his boring normal and comfortable life had changed with the murder of his colleague. He was in the middle of an investigation and that must be a one lifetime experience.

Slowly the man caught himself. "Y-yes, that's me, I'm the boss." He stammered agitated but remained in a professional polite manner. If the files hold truth they were all salesman after all.

"We need your statement and those of Thomas' closest colleagues." Dani added impatiently. The boss nodded frankly and walked away, both detectives following.

"Sure, that's manageable. We can discuss this in the briefing room in-" He attempted to look at his watch, but hell would Dani make an official appointment and wait for everyone to clear some time. She wasn't just some client. She was a detective who had to solve a homicide with a criminal on the loose.

"Now." She threw in emotionless. The man glanced behind him and met her merciless eyes. "Of course. Right away. Give me just a minute to gather them all." He said when they reached the door to the briefing room.

JT glanced doubtingly at the nervous man. "Are you sure you wanna do this together? There will be questions considering their private lives, especially the afterhours. Could destroy the illusion of your perfect workplace." JT pointed out with a frown.

The old man revealed a kind smile with a hint of melancholy. "We're all humans. There is no shame for being less strict in our private life than in our everyday work life." He replied and opened the door for them. Dani walked in confidently. "Just checkin." JT mumbled and walked past the boss into the room.

It took a few minutes for the rest of the men to enter the room. All of them were nervous, as they didn't know what to expect from this. Matter of experience JT and Dani knew they weren't nervous because they were guilty in any form. This was just a new and very uncomfortable situation for them.

"Good afternoon gentlemen." Dani stood up and greeted them. In patches some of them greeted back politely before sitting down. She had the urge to offer them something to drink, since this always was a supporting distraction for the other side, but this wasn't their place. They were the guests. So they both declined the offer for a coffee and decided to go straight to work.

"We take it you were all informed of the death of your colleague Thomas Moore. We have some questions we'd like to ask you and hope for your cooperation." Dani started. No one answered her, they were all tensed up. "So first things first, who was with him the last time he was seen?" Again no one wanted to answer. As one man opened his mouth, another man suddenly interrupted.

"Are you asking us because we're suspects?" He blurted out distressed. JT frowned.

"We're just doing our job and gathering some information. If you're all innocent you don't have to fear a thing." He replied, unsure if his words possessed the power to kill some of their worries.

"So who was with him the last day of his life?" Dani repeated rather impatient.

"We all were." A pretty young one of them eventually answered. He earned the interest of both detectives. For now he was considered to be the bravest one of them all. The young man shrunk into his seat but continued talking. "We were at the bar, drinking a few beers and, and celebrating." He confessed like a teenager that snuck out to hang with some friends.

"Celebrate what?" JT asked, his arms crossed before his chest. Another man, probably in his early fifties took over.

"Thomas and I had made a huge sale." He earned a lot of looks, not only from the detectives but from his colleagues as well. "We were best friends you know." He confessed while scratching the back of his head. Dani and JT nodded.

"What was the sale about?" JT asked mechanically when he was interrupted by the boss. "That's confidential information we don't share." Not that JT was interested in it that much, it was just his standard questioning. Now though he was reminded by the chef and had more important question marks.

"I take it you weren't involved in the after party, Mr. Anderson?" JT spoke up, seeing how the boss backed away. "Where have you been the night your employee had been murdered?" JT leaned forward and looked the man dead into his eyes.

For the first time Mr. Anderson wasn't intimated by the police. He knew he was innocent and feared nothing. "I was at the opera. With my wife. You can check the tickets if you need to."

"We will." Dani answered coolly, only to value the protocol. They already had the real killer. This was just a waste of time.

"Was there anyone who wanted to harm Mr. Moore? Did he have any enemies?" JT sighed. It felt a bit weird to ask these questions although they had cleared the fact this was an impersonal murder.

The group of businessmen shook their head, almost in unison. The same answer to the question if he had been acting strange. According to his friends Thomas Moore left the bar last. Maybe he wanted the party about him to last longer. Or maybe he wanted to escape his wife. So many possible reasons that barely interested them. They wanted to catch the real troublemaker, not interview some salesmen.

Yet here they were. "What a person was Mr. Moore in his living days?" Dani continued. She looked up confused when no one offered her an answer. Instead they dodged their eyes, as if they were teachers asking their students for the right answer.

"What's the matter?" She spoke up, looking at JT for support. He shrugged but opened his mouth. She thought they already had relieved them of their tense distrust.

"Mr. Perez, you were his best friend, ain't that right?" He asked. Mentioned person looked up and nodded. "That's correct." He answered laconically. "You oughta know your best friend?" JT added with played astonishment. Mr. Perez fought to keep his head up, debating what to answer because in the end he had to. There was no way past it.

His head lifted up quickly with a confident impression. "You shouldn't talk bad about the dead." JT was taken aback by this answer. They just wanted to know what Thomas had been like. Were there only bad characteristics?

"Then just tell us the truth." Dani urged him kindly. Mr. Anderson leaned over the table with his arms, blocking his employee.

"Thomas was a good man. He was very ambitious and most of the time cheerful. He had an explosive temper, which he showed rarely to the publicity though. He was always hard-working and concentrated. This company will miss him." He told them, but it felt forced. Dani spied under his arms to Mr. Perez.

"That's all wonderful and good, but I'd like to know how Mr. Moore was also in private."

It wasn't Mr. Perez who answered. It was again the youngest one of the group.

"Thomas was a little bit old-lined."

The whole group looked offended at him. Dani suppressed a smirk, maybe this afternoon was getting a little bit more interesting.

"Mr. Williams, right? Could you explain that a little bit more." JT mixed in.

The young man nodded hesitantly. "Thomas, he saw the world a little bit different. I would say he stuck too much to the past." He looked apologetically at Dani. "He didn't really think high of women." The detectives nodded in understanding.

"He was very obvious about it, wasn't he?" She asked. Mr. Williams nodded in resignation.

"Yeah okay, maybe Thomas pretty much was an ass to women. But he was still a real man, you know what I mean?" Mr. Perez joined in. JT scowled. "I'm not sure I'm following." He admitted honestly, more sounding like a threat. Mr. Perez moved on his chair forth and back.

"What I'm trying to say is, he stood for his believes. God, even if they were so wrong and he was alone on it, he stood for his opinion. He defended it probably with his last breath."

Dani nodded, but couldn't form any admiration for such a guy. She looked into her files to verify her next words. "Yet he was married for over ten years." She said and looked up to Perez. The man sighed dramatically and drowned in memories.

"Yes, Vanessa. That woman is a goddess. One man and three children, I don't know how she put up with that." Dani and JT shared a look at each other. Bright and Gil were talking to her right now, would they find something out? For the first time they realized there could be more to it. Like the killer wanted to add some drama into this on purpose.

JT placed his palms on the table and looked Perez into his eyes. "Did Vanessa and Thomas love each other?" He asked sternly. The men shared one look at each other and... laughed. They actually laughed.

"So why didn't they break up then?" Dani threw in and interrupted the laughter. Mr. Anderson, the only businessman to stand upright with his arms closed, opened his mouth. "Because usually, Thomas never loses. He's more than just a man. He is a winner."

Dani soaked in the words, but her eyes shifted outside the room. A woman, straight brown hair and a cold expression, stepped out of the elevator. She wore a red shirt and a black skirt, crimson red high heels. She positioned her weight on her right foot and looked around the office. Her black eyes stayed glued to Dani's. Without taking off her eyes she fished into her black expensive purse. Dani immediately jumped up, the emotionless black eyes burning themselves into her consciousness.

"To the ground!" She screamed before a loud shot burned their ears.

Only one single shot.

* * *

Bright moved elegantly back to the couch. He had his sentence already prepared in his notebook, so he pushed it wordlessly to Vanessa while he himself sat down next to Gil. The lieutenant glared down at his profiler for interrupting them so ruthlessly. After seeing Vanessa's expression he knew it must've been important. The woman lifted her head, her eyes dangerously wet. She pushed the notebook back to Bright.

"I didn't lie. I loved my husband, I thought that was already cleared." She huffed with a hint of annoyance. She started to argue, she didn't know she had already lost. Although she didn't want to read Malcolm's newest message she accepted the paper politely.

'Maybe you really did, but that was years ago, right?'

She inhaled sharply and held her breath. Any other statement could be a lie and she wanted to be careful with the police. Malcolm gave her more input. Overwhelmed she grabbed the next little paper.

'You fell in love with him when he was the perfect man, Vanessa. He was a gentleman most of the time. Sometimes he showed a little bit of weird tendencies, but you pushed them aside. As jokes, as mood? He was such a sweetheart, how could you have known this would be something permanent?'

Vanessa looked at Bright after reading it, after _he_ read _her_. By now she was addicted. She feared the next paper, but she needed it desperately. She needed to get familiar with the woman she had become. Somehow this stranger knew her better than she ever did herself.

'You're not from here. Your mother tongue is Spanish, the accent never fully disappeared. You didn't understand this language like your husband did, since he was born and raised in America all along. You married. For you it was the marriage of your dreams, Thomas was responsible for all the paperwork. After your honeymoon phase you really got to know each other. Thomas never valued women like men. His beliefs were conservative, and he forced that lifestyle onto you. You put up with it long enough. When was the first time you thought about divorcing?' Malcolm felt sorry when Vanessa spilled the first teardrop. He handed her his next paper, but no tissue. She pulled herself together and read it as well.

'When your boys started to follow into daddy's steps?'

Vanessa sobbed loudly and covered her mouth with her open palm. Still she continued reading, like it was a drug. Gil looked worried to Bright who was already working on his next message.

'You wanted to divorce, but you couldn't, right? Thomas was a player and he played you right at the beginning. You would gain barely anything from the divorce. You earn nothing yourself since you're a full-time mother. You wouldn't be able to make it with three kids alone. Maybe you knew your husband was a player. You never knew he was a winner. So there was only one solution for you left, am I right?'

Vanessa widened her eyes in shock and glared at Bright in disbelief. "What are you getting at? Are you saying **I** killed my own husband? How dare you?!" She snarled spitefully. Carefully Bright laid the single sheet onto the table. Vanessa was tempted to rip it in two halves. Malcolm looked sadly at her and motioned for to finally read it. She leaned over the paper in disgust and started reading.

'You didn't kill your husband. We already know who the real murderer is. I'm afraid you know him, too.'

He pushed the business card next to his message. Vanessa stopped breathing, her eyes wide-opened. The card with _his_ number she explicitly hid. He found it. He found her dirty little secret.

"Please Vanessa, no more lies." Gil sighed and watched her crumble apart from the opposite couch. The woman blinked the tears away, her lip trembled. She broke down with the first tear that escaped her watch.

"I was desperate! That man, he was _ruining_ my children. He infected them with his… his disrespectful beliefs, he tainted them! I needed to save them, I wanted to protect my children from this monster!"

"But you couldn't." Gil realized bluntly. Malcolm showed him his thoughts and Gil copied his words. "You couldn't help them, but he could. He gave you the choice to save your children from becoming like their father. You gave the Killer green light." Vanessa stared at them, the mascara running down her cheeks. Her whole body was trembling. She was scared. And not only for her children.

"I did what was best for my babies." She defended herself, the Spanish accent was so strong, Gil wasn't sure it was English in the first place. He sighed in resignation. He didn't love to do this either.

"And yet you soaked your hands in blood."

He stood up pulling out handcuffs. Vanessa watched him with utter horror. "I'm sorry, but we need to take you with us. Your cooperation will be valued in the court, so I advise you to act with sense." Gil said and read her rights while cuffing the stunned woman.

Bright observed the situation sadly. It was surreal to him. He felt pity for Vanessa. She reminded him of his own mother. So did she know about Martin Whitley's strange hobby, yet she kept it to herself to protect her family. Sometimes you had to walk the most horrible path to protect the ones you love. His family must be the perfect example to that statement.

"What about my children?" Vanessa cried. "Don't worry, they will be taken care of while you aren't available. Your biggest worry should be to find yourself a good lawyer." Gil replied calmly. Malcolm grabbed his jacket and pointed upstairs. Gil forgot there was an actual infant sleeping up there.

"Is there a neighbor who you trust to take care for your baby right now?" Vanessa sobbed uncontrollably but nodded between cries. "Trisha Edison." Gil nodded in understanding. He turned to Bright. "Can you-" He stopped when he noticed the big white ruff collar covering Bright's throat. He changed his sentence spontaneously, but there was no doubt Bright hadn’t noticed it. "-bring Vanessa to the car. I'll inform Mrs. Edison." Malcolm nodded bitterly.

They switched positions and parted themselves for now.

The cold steel of the cuffs burning in his hands.

It didn’t feel right. But sometimes the truth doesn’t have to feel that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing muted Malcolm was actually pretty fun and challenging. I should've mentioned that in the tags...


	8. Chapter 7

The sky had been dark for hours, but now it was also beginning to get late. The thin cups containing the hot liquid burned through, reaching his bare palms. He strolled through the empty hallway into the barely crowded yet lively precinct.

The day shift was already at home, the night shift had arrived a couple of hours ago. Technically he should go home as well, but there was only a little bit of paperwork left. It's not like he had a lot of sleep waiting for him at home.

As graceful as possible with two cups disabling his hands, he made his way through the bullpen. For a positive change he didn’t bump into anyone. He placed both cups on his desk and fished out his mobile. His hands were shaking, yet he still managed to get something written. This particular handicap wasn’t new, he already managed to get used to it and learn how to work with it.

The innocent _Bing_ sound echoed at a certain table. He grinned and with that made his way to the destined location. He already saw the woman reading his message.

She lifted her gaze, a warm smile underlining her features. She stood up and relieved him of one Earl Grey tea with a silent thanks. They settled to lean against her desk, just a short break from work.

"Why are you still here?" Dani asked between her sipping. Her eyes wandered down to his hands, observing him typing in his phone.

'Same reason as you, finish paperwork.' He showed her. She nodded and took a careful sip. The tea was very hot. She tended to forget it every now and then, accidentally taking huge sips. Out of habit her eyes sought back to her desk. The toxic screen light penetrating her sore eyes. A tiny gasp escaped her lips under the warm touch on her usually cold hands.

'You really should give yourself a break. You didn't even take one earlier to change your clothes.' Bright pointed out. Dani grinned and looked into her tea, combing back a loose strand behind her ear.

"Well, I gotta earn my respect somehow in this man-crowded place. I would recommend blood on your shirt anytime." She countered back, a layer of humor coating the horrible reality. Bright chuckled lightly at her statement and went back to write on his phone. Dani waited patiently.

'No worries there. I'd advise anyone to keep a safe distance from you and your ferocious punches. And your cold hands of course.’

They both chuckled, but deep inside they were broken from this day. Malcolm still felt sick from the walk to the car, the poor crying mother in front of him, chained to him. He declined the offer to watch Gil get an official statement. Instead he went straight to paperwork. Until JT and Dani entered the precinct again, blood on their clothes. He was concerned, so he had tried to find out what had happened. Neither of them wanted to talk about it yet and preferred to get back to work. Bright accepted it disappointed and respected their choice. He was bound to find out anyway, it was part of their investigation.

"She shot herself in the head, the woman." Dani spoke up suddenly. Bright looked at her surprised. He didn’t know what woman Dani was talking about. He figured he’d never get the chance to ask when her lips already parted. "We were near the end of our interrogation when the woman entered the hall. I couldn't take my eyes off her, she seemed so off, you know." Malcolm was more than relieved Dani finally opened up to him, trusted him to inform him about the terrifying events of the day. He listened all too eager.

"She pulled out her gun and held it against her temple. Everyone lost their minds, they panicked blindly. They saw the gun and immediately dropped to the ground. Only JT and I were running to the woman." She explained and drunk her warm tea for a change. She licked over her dry lip before she sighed heavily.

"JT informed her parents. She was a young nurse but had suffered depression for a long time now. They never expected her to take her own life. She sought help, you know." Bright nodded. He did know. He already guessed who that help might have been and what kind of advice he gave her. For _him_ , life was nothing but a big game. He played with everything and everyone.

Dani's grip on her cup strengthened. "It, it was that bastard! The bag was full of playing cards!" She informed him through gritted teeth, unbelievable anger reflecting her dark eyes. Bright observed her concerned, counting her steps back to her seat.

"Thanks for the tea Bright, but I really need to work. We have to catch that guy!" She exclaimed motivated and jumped into her paperwork. Bright nodded sadly and returned to his own desk. Dani was right after all.

After just a little while though he became terribly exhausted. He rarely experienced that level of fatigue. Frightened by the consequences of falling asleep at work again, he decided to take a walk and get some fresh air outside. Alone.

* * *

Dani awoke with a startle. She looked around herself for any witnesses, but everyone was engrossed in their own work. No one caught her sleeping on her desk. With a frown she studied her paperwork. She barely reached any update, she didn't even finish her tea. There was no use in continuing this. She was in dire need of sleep. She couldn't work anymore, and this paperwork wouldn't get her closer to catching that guy. Tomorrow was another day. There she could finish it and maybe scrounge up enough time to work on something more significant.

She put away her files and stood up. The coat embraced her shoulders and she felt strangely safe. No one said goodbye to her, neither did she. Dani left the building wordlessly. The moment she stepped on the concrete of the sidewalk she cursed herself for not checking on Bright. On the other hand, he was a grown man. He could take care of himself, she eased her mind while walking through this cold December's night. Her car was already around that corner.

The ringing of her mobile screeched loudly in the empty alley. She struggled to find it and accept the call to mute the noise. Who the heck would even call this late? Bright was her first assumption. Maybe he fell asleep on his desk. Now he woke up, all alone, wondering where his friend was.

Her phone announced an unknown caller. Bright was probably still working or sulking at home. Why was she so worried about him, he was a grown-up and very capable adult.

She tapped the green button a little bit harder than intentioned. The source of her frustration confused her, but now that she accepted the call she needed to answer and ignore the issue. She lifted her mobile to her ear and introduced herself with a sleepy sigh. "Detective Powell."

"Good evening detective. Took you long enough to answer your goddamn phone." An unfamiliar voice sang into her ear. She blinked confused. That man knew her. Should she be knowing him as well? Her brain working so slowly, what was going on?

"What? You don't remember me? We haven't met too long ago." As sudden and surprising Dani was hit with the memories of that faithful night. It was the man, the man that choked her friend almost to death.

"You!" She snarled furiously, her eyes wandering instinctively through the alleyway. He was here, she felt it. If she had learned anything in her job, then it was that predators loved watching their prey struggle. He was here, and she would end this. She wouldn't be his prey, not today.

"There we go!" The Game Master cheered happily. He had a clear and calming voice. Anyone would love to listen to him. She could imagine him precisely, presenting the newest invention or product to his colleagues, bathing in their attention. That man had businessman vibes, maybe they could add that to the profile. After all, there was no way she was going to die tonight. Not because of that clown.

"Show yourself, coward. Be a man and fight me." She demanded in a low growl. Roaring laughter greeted her ear. She suppressed a wince and held her phone steady.

"Quite the fighter, aren't you?" Commented the killer on her attitude. She snorted annoyed, still searching her surroundings.

Caught up in her inspection, the Game Master was forced to continue their little conversation. He had to quicken up. Confidently he stepped out of his hiding place, walking down the empty street.

"Are you really that motivated to see me?" He asked casually while straightening his flawless suit. The female voice was laced with pure hatred. "You have no idea." A cold shudder overtook him. He had to remind himself that everything was in his control, no matter how scary this woman sounded. She was just enjoying the illusion of power a little too much. 

"You want to play, don't you? Then let's play. Let's see who the better player is out of us two."

The man grinned excitedly. He loved her spirit. She was the ideal subject for this. They all were. He was looking forward to it, the fun, the drama. This was the most excited game of them all. The game called _life_.

"I like your spirit, missie, but I have a few objections. _I_ am not just a player. We aren't the same. I _own_ the results, and you will merely dance pretty." He hummed, looking at the corner with anticipation. She didn’t know only a few feet were separating them. She would certainly wish there to be more.

"I don't do pretty." He heard her cold voice. What a ravishing woman. He'd look forward to breaking them, enjoying every second of it.

"That's a pity, given the looks you have."

Dani absorbed the words, hearing a pair of expensive dress shoes, just like Bright wears them every day. A little part of her hoped to see Malcolm. It wasn't her friend who entered her alleyway. It was her enemy. Finally.

Instinctively her hand reached for her gun, fingers fumbling empty air. Her next guess was her pocketknife, but it was gone as well. She ignored the chuckle coming from her phone and searched her whole appearance for her weapons.

"What is it, detective? Having troubles finding your gun? Knife? Your baton, or possibly even your pepper spray?"

Panic emerged in Dani. Where was all of her stuff? She didn't leave it at the precinct, it must be with here somewhere. She didn't stop searching. As long as determination was pumping through her veins alongside adrenaline, there was hope. If she would give up on her search, wouldn’t she need to accept the harsh reality of being unarmed? Naked?

"Did you like your precious tea?"

That was all Dani needed to wrap up her search party. It was about official. She was weaponless. He had drugged her and disarmed her while she was defenseless. Which meant he had been in the precinct, unnoticed.

No. Impossible. Everyone should've recognized him.

One sick and fucked up thought appeared all of a sudden, but she pushed it away. Impossible. It seemed plausible that he had an accomplice, a mole in their system. But she shouldn't doubt Bright due to his family history. His father was a serial killer, not he himself. He was a friend. A friend who brought her the cursed tea in the first place. So ultimately, this left her with two options. Either he was an accomplice, or he was in danger as well. She flinched, a smothered gunshot in her ears that never happened. The fear of Bright getting shot by his own people was too realistic, the blurry line between imagination and reality merging together. Because that’s what would’ve happened if Dani wouldn’t have caught him during his night terror, right?

"What did you lace it with?" She pressed behind gritted teeth, refusing to stand like the fool she had been made of. His sardonic chuckle was just like a dagger in her pride.

"Love, darling."

That was the last string for Dani to snap. She was torn apart between fighting this killer and worrying for her friend. Her safety was somewhere in the more irrelevant section. She chose friendship.

"I swear if you hurt Malcolm in any way-" A groan from her phone interrupted her threat. Right, the distance was yet too large for them to communicate without helping tools. By now she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

"You are so tense, detective!" He protested in exaggeration. Dani's eyes switched to her phone and back to the silhouette blocking the alley. Why couldn’t she just attack him, foul and dirty with the element of surprise?

Quickly disappointed by her irrational thinking, she trained her eyes back to the threat. He could have a gun, a knife, he could possess all her weapons. He would see her attacking from the front and could react without trouble. She simply wasn't enough in advantage to accept a little risk. Again, she wasn’t in the position to fight him. Only this time, it was only him and her.

She startled when the man pointed his index into the air, afterward snapping them in realization. "I've got it, silly me." He exclaimed excitedly. His head was pointed to the sky. She noticed the vague indication he was grinning. His head fell down and she was pierced by cold predatory eyes.

"Let's play a game, detective, to loosen up a bit." He proposed, but the insanity was leaking far wide for it to be considered normal.

Dani inhaled deeply, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her while speaking. "I'm thinking more of a fight, to burn off some energy. Come on, a fair fight with our fists." She was tempted to insult his pride, call him chicken or something like that. She lost her breath when he reached into his pocket, one hand still on his ear with his mobile.

"Not a bad idea. The thing is..." He waged his words, inhaling a long-stretched breath with pressed teeth. He looked back at her for his confession. "I don't do fair."

Dani lost her breath. The knife was out of the pocket without her actually seeing it. Drawn to the bright reflection of the streetlamp on the sharp piece of metal, she nearly missed him speak again. "So let's play _Tag._ " Nearly.

Everything went fast after that. The killer dashed towards her like a maniac, his knife high up in the air. Every rational sense jumped off her mind without parachutes. Her primitive instincts won over the control.

She turned around, almost stumbling over her own feet and going face-first to the ground. And then she ran. She _ran_. Her heart, her breath, both had never been this loud before in her life.

A splash echoed through the alley, a startled wince escaping her unwillingly. Her left sock was soaked wet starting then.

She risked a scared look behind her back, spitting out some of her uncontrollably flying hair. Gosh was he near, her heart sank to the very bottom, he was so near! She expected a blade in her back every second. But then again, was he really that near? Was her scared mind playing tricks on her? She didn't dare to double-check that.

Dani was running for her life. She was hella scared right now. She didn't want to die. Not today, not like this, not, just, no! Her breath was hitching and her cheeks were salty. She didn't think of it as embarrassing. Not when she remembered the maniac chasing her with a knife. No cry for help escaped her throat, just a big and ugly sob. Her lungs were empty, the sprint was taking a toll on her. Why not on him?

No one was chasing her. Her steps went slower, her stomach turning and squirming. Did she outrun him?

As her speed almost reached zero, she felt a pair of hands on each arm. She released all of the built fear in one agonizing scream. Malcolm eyed her disturbed. She recognized him in an instant, quickly trapping him in a tight embrace before he could back away from her.

"Dani?" Bright gasped, a barely audible croak.

Her whole body trembled. She was cold, and her makeup ruined from crying. She buried her face in his shoulder, not bothered by the neck brace. She tried to steady her breathing, to shake off the immense shock she'd just experienced. Why did she feel oddly safe with Bright? He was unarmed as well, and they weren't fighting off a nightmare that disappeared within the security of another witness.

"what appened?" His voice was damaged, broken. He squeaked in a high and weak voice, but he tried anyway. Dani couldn't bring herself to worry about him, nor asking why he was out here in the first place. The traumatic experience was anchored in her bones. Getting chased by a serial killer with a knife was an everyone's horror scenario. She just survived it, she thought with a bitter taste in her mouth. Because he wanted her to.

Shamelessly she sobbed into his coat and cried. His hand patted her back in circles. It was over. The horror was over, for now. Round two was done. What would follow next in this cruel nightmare? "He chased me with a knife..." She stammered, eyes torn open to a point they started burning. Covered in acid rather than fear. Bright soothed her with soft raspy _Shh._

After a minute or so, her pulse slowly returned to normalcy. Her breathing left the state of fast and shallow, her mind entering somewhat of a more rational one. She was safe. Malcolm was safe. It was over and they were both safe, as long as they had each other.

Sadly the real world doesn't work like that. Her eyes tore open, wandered to her mobile still clamped tightly in her hand. Bright stirred slightly, having heard a faint voice behind his back. Dani started trembling again.

"Who said this was over?"

The dark silhouette appeared out of nowhere, the shining knife in his right hand. One quick movement and Bright went limp in her arms. She barely registered anything, he was already dragging her to the ground with a silent wince.

"Bright!" Dani cried in panic. He couldn't leave her alone. Please, he couldn't abandon her on this one. His knocked-out body weighed heavily on her own, crushing her and keeping her pinned to the ground. She couldn't help but look the murderer straight into his eyes. The lust, the excitement deeply engraved in his cold dark eyes over his hungry grin.

He kicked the limp body away from her and plunged down to Dani on the ground, the tip of the knife pointing towards her. The horror in her eyes manifested itself into a blood curled scream.

It was the last thing New York got to hear from Dani Powell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: While posting this I actually drank Earl Grey tea. I love tea, I'm so happy that's actually canon between the two of them :)


	9. Chapter 8

The coffee didn't do its job. Malcolm was bone tired. Then again, when hadn't he been? His body had gotten used to being sleep deprived. After getting forced to sleep in the hospital his body had trouble coping with the changes. Good changes not to forget.

Whatever it was, his system was protesting. In a way it was funny. Too much sleep made him sleepy and needy for even more sleep. Was he supposed to crave for sleep every passing day and suffer for the rest of his life?

He was wondering why he always discussed the weirdest problems in his head when a special person entered the bullpen, silencing the voices in his head. He pushed away all sense and concern. For now, he was just delighted to see her again.

"Dani!" He chirped and headed towards the woman with a decent jump in his walk. He hadn't seen her since, well, since his last visit to the hospital. He was a lot of times in the hospital these past few days, nothing to be proud of. He was very much surprised Gil accepted him here after everything that had happened. His major concerns would have been that Gil could've booked him a flight and send him away until this case was closed. Seems like Major Crimes was more desperate than they would like to admit.

Dani looked awful, exhaustion marking her normally flawless face. The sun that returned to her stern expression just made Malcolm's day.

"I see you're off the neck brace." She noticed, a warm smile surfacing. Malcolm grinned to both ears.

"So is the voice back again." He added excitedly. Just when they reached an awkward silence where none of them knew what to say, they were rescued brutally. "You look like shit." JT passed by and collected a hole puncher on a table next to their small group. "Likewise." Dani addressed back at him as he was about to leave to where he had come from. He glared at Dani who looked surprisingly smug.

"Wow." Malcolm joined in to relieve some tension. "First time we're talking about this subject and it's not my fault." He chuckled and bounced forth and back in his stand.

JT played the puncher in his hand and scrutinized Malcolm. "Yeah, with you it's already normalcy. You always look awful." He countered back and earned an angry glare from Dani. Malcolm took it easy and laughed it away. "Well no, he's got a point." He admitted and lifted his takeaway cup, probably with the worst coffee he has ever drunk. "And _this_ is bullshit." He directed at it and threw it into the nearest bin. So much for trying out new things.

"Briefing room. Now." Gil walked past the group, disturbing their friendly Smalltalk. The three shared worried glances before following their lieutenant into their Briefing room. Dani limped slowly behind Malcolm, whereas JT already disappeared in the room.

"Do you-" Bright stammered, pointing to Dani and her crutches. "I'm fine." She declined his offer for aid shortly. He nodded, walking the rest of the distance at her speed.

He closed the door gently after Dani was through. She wasted no second to take a seat. All the while Gil observed her with a stern impression. When everyone was ready he walked to the front, automatically gathering their attention.

"I had JT check the video footage, but apparently the killer froze the record for at least ten minutes. Our phantom photo led to further, let's see-" Gil spared a look into his files. "-a total of zero clues. We also checked on Ines Lambert, the woman who committed suicide in the office. We have nothing so far." In resigned mannerism he put away the files beside him and leaned against the wall facing his back. He sighed frustrated and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"How is this possible? We had two encounters with the killer and yet we have _nothing_ against him. Nothing at all. What's our next lead?" He asked into the round, silence as an answer.

Malcolm recognized that face on Gil. He had seen it plenty of times. It warned him that Gil was about to do something he didn't even like himself at all but simply saw no other choice. Malcolm spared his breath to disagree immediately. Instead he thought of a reason to convince Gil to change his mind. To plant some hope into their heads.

"I don't see any other solution. We need to give this case to the FBI."

"What?" Dani blurted out indignantly. JT stepped closer to his boss. "You can't be serious Gil." Spoken to man raised his head. He wore a strong and confident expression, but Malcolm could easily see under all these layers up to the naked desperation.

"What if I am? We aren't capable of solving this case on our own. We are lacking the resources-"

"What resources? We have everything we need except time. Since when are you giving up on a case this early?" Dani objected enraged, not expecting Gil to have a good reason in her blind anger.

"Maybe since two of my team already gotten hurt?" He countered back, crushing silence taking again over the room. Dani and JT lowered their gaze to the ground, Gil looking apologetically at them.

"I'm sorry. I really don't want to do it, but what else should we do?" He searched the eyes of his detectives. JT signed in first for defeat. "I guess you do have a point. We really are out of possible leads."

"I beg to differ." Malcolm jumped up from his seat, choosing his words carefully, like he wasn't even sure if his thoughts were even presentable. Nevertheless, he was an expert in improvisation. Most of his profiles changed while he presented them to his team. That's how it always worked, and so far they were successful. Malcolm just worried that ' _so far'_ wasn't sufficient anymore.

"Our killer isn't much of a player, no matter what he says." Malcolm started and exchanged places with Gil. Now was his time to shine, voice almost fully recovered. "In fact, he is more of a cheater. His games aren't real games. Normal games provide an equal possibility to win or lose. With this killer though, it is impossible to win. 100%." Malcolm explained motivated. He reminded himself to speed up a little bit before he would lose his team's interest, but there were just so many things spooking in his brain. "So what we can tell, and I'm very certain about this, the next victim will be Gil or JT."

"What?" All three blurted out at the same time.

"I know, it's a shock, but we can't change the fact it's going to happen sooner or later." Gil looked at JT and back to Malcolm.

"You say he's so smart, what if that's what he's expecting? That we put all precautions on us and he will strike you or Dani again?" He objected. Malcolm was glad he asked that, exactly what he's been hoping for.

"Excellent question Gil." Malcolm praised him, like a teacher his student. "Yet connected to a very simple answer. He can't afford it." He asserted with an obvious smile. "He planned all of this in at least four acts. Every act has its own game-” He lifted his index “-and a new victim of course. He planned it into every little detail, so mistakes are impossible. I even fear the same for precautions. There's simply nothing we can do but endure his little games. Until everything's over."

"You think he's gonna stop after fooling every single one of us and just disappear?" JT raised one eyebrow. Malcolm waged his head right and left, not convinced of that thought.

"Assumable, but honestly not very likable. In his mind, life is just a game to him. The winner lives. The looser..." Malcolm ended to let them finish the sentence for themselves.

"Yet you, quote on quote losers, are still alive." Gil threw in. Malcolm nodded, admitting he had a flaw in his theory.

"That is indeed a problem. The worst that could happen is that these four rounds are just for warm-up."

JT lifted both eyebrows. "That's the worst that could happen?" He blurted out, astounded by how manageable Malcolm let it sound. He literally assumed they were all going to die in the end and there would be nothing they could do about it.

"Alright, just another reason to get the FBI on this case. I'm not setting your lives on stakes-"

"You don't have to." Malcolm interrupted Gil innocently, attracting back all of their intentions. They stared at him, betting their hopes on him. They had tried all the official detective work they could do. Was it now time to become... unconventional?

Bright smiled regarding the attention, fire back in their eyes. That's more like it. "We are _not_ completely helpless. I scooped up some potential leads that might or might not help us to find our Game Master." Malcolm revealed and went to pick up a box that contained all the evidence they had gathered so far. The brown box met the table with a dull sound.

JT and Gil inched closer to the box to have a better look at Bright’s results. Dani continued to observe from distance. She watched him fish out a polythene bag with one regular playing card. Or so they thought.

"The killer is using playing cards as a signature. They probably play a big role in his past, I would even go this far and say childhood. He is very familiar with them, probably most experienced with Poker.” Bright explained. His eyes wandered to the luxurious red Chanel. “Ines' bag? Practically a mass of full houses. He didn't only throw in some cards in the designer handbag. He manifested part of himself in it." He turned the card around and motivated the detectives to take a closer look at it. "Literally."

Dani squinted at the card, her eyebrows rising in slow motion. "Is this... a customized playing card?" She spoke for all of them. Bright planted his hands on the box filled with cards.

"Not only one of it. They _all_ carry his face." He added, maybe a tiny bit too excited.

Meanwhile, JT took the card from Malcolm and observed the shielded card. He couldn't forget the killer's face. There he was looking at him, a little bit abstract, still him. Sticking out his tongue at them. "Didn't know you could customize simple playing cards." He snorted impressed and threw it into the box with all the other cards.

"You can customize literally everything these days." Malcolm replied while placing the lid gently over the box. Gil groaned.

"Great. Now we even have him mocking us on his cards. Anything else?" He grumbled at his profiler. Malcolm shot him a glance while escorting the box back to its former place.

"Don't be so negative all the time, Gil _."_ He rolled his eyes, a wide grin covering his face. He refused to give them to whole treat, rather enjoying seeing them wiggle for their own conclusion. Motivating them to think for themselves. Shortly after it really made _click_ in Gil’s brain.

"We've got his shopping area." Gil realized.

"We can check for anyone who offers to customize playing cards." Dani suggested.

"Bingo!" Malcolm cheered, a new box already in his hand. Gil scrutinized him from head to toe.

"You've got another idea?" He asked rhetorically, but really he was just clearing the stage for Bright to continue. The young profiler nodded.

"We have gathered two business cards, remember?" He pulled both out, one from Ines, the other one from Vanessa. Gil's eyes narrowed.

"You do realize we already tried tracing them down? No phone number, no internet site." He grumbled and crossed his arms before his chest.

Malcolm spread his hands to the sides. "Only makes sense removing them." He walked to the table, laying out both different cards carefully. "What I'm trying to point out is, they have something particular in common." He said, holding his breath for the others to play this through with him. JT looked at his boss, not sure if Bright was being serious. Gil covered his eyes with his open palm and shook his head.

His hand dropped and he moved towards Bright. "Let's see, both internet links are different, their source as well. Except that both sites are deleted, doesn't that count as a similarity?" Gil pointed out demotivated. Bright nodded reluctantly. He was obviously going for something else. Gil sighed, continued nevertheless.  
"The phone numbers are different and not traceable. Is there something I forgot?" Gil looked at JT, who shook his head.

"The service." Bright objected, a lively spark in his eyes. Gil turned back to him, his attention entangled in the net Bright had thrown.

"Our killer didn't just leave breadcrumbs for us to collect. Even here he engraved an important part of himself. Business." Bright explained, as if it was this simple and _totally_ obvious. He started walking in the little room, underlining his speech.

"Our killer is an experienced businessman. Persuading people for his own interests is his daily work. I bet he even runs a legal business," Bright guessed with his hand on his chin and his gaze out of the window, “just with some shady stuff going on in the background." He added after a little while, turning back to his group with a lopsided grin.

"So what do you suggest? Interrogate every businessman in New York?" Dani took out of it, but there was no conviction in it. Malcolm smiled sadly.

"Well, this is only a hunch. There are too many options, even then we could have him right under our nose and not recognize him." Bright replied.

"You know we have his appearance?" JT threw in, one eyebrow raised. Malcolm laughed lightly, pity for his less gifted brother.

"What we have of him, is a version of his disguises. The man we're dealing with is a chameleon. He sold me two cups of tea without me noticing him." JT narrowed his eyes.

"Well maybe because you're just freakin blind." Malcolm returned the glare. As if their killer would go to such risks and plan everything in such little detail- Was he even listening to what he was saying?

"Alright, calm down. Both of you." Gil interfered before the situation could escalate. "We've got work to do."

Dani watched all three men from her lowered position. "Fine. What do you want us to do?" She spoke up, open to any suggestion. Gil pointed at her. "You're definitely not going into the field. I need you here." Then he turned to Bright and JT for further assignments.

Dani suppressed an annoyed groan. On the other hand, she shared total understanding. It was for her own good after all.

"Our best shot is probably to look at our current businessmen. You two are going to visit as many offices as possible the next few days." He commanded to Bright and JT. The detective blew raspberries. "That's a long shot."

Gil shook his head. "We have a lot of time. There are no other leads to distract us." He replied shortly.

"So… JT takes the west? And I-"

"No." Gil cut off Bright. "You'll be working as a team." His subordinates rolled their eyes. "Seriously? That way it's gonna take even longer." JT objected, Bright nodding in agreement.

Not that it mattered to Gil. "I already said it, I'll say it again. We have time. Besides, four eyes are better than two." Maybe they accepted it, still they behaved like grumpy teenagers in the middle of puberty. Gil sighed. "I need your experience and Bright's expertise working together. Can you manage?" Eventually they nodded in defeat. None of them wanted to disappoint their mentor.

Gil planned to hand over Dani's assignment when both men would disappear. JT was almost out of the room when something kept Bright hesitating. Gil turned to him and placed on hand on his shoulder with fatherly affection. "What's on your mind?" He started investigating his kid. Malcolm was obviously unsure whether he should share his thoughts with the group or not. He decided to go with the flow.

"There's something, something nagging in the profile." He confessed. JT leaned at the doorframe, observing his partner expectantly. A flow of motivation pumped into Bright's body and he jumped to his whiteboard. The profile of the Game Master on it.

"The profile assumes he had a rather poor childhood, remember?" Bright pointed out, checking if he had everyone's attention. "Our killer has a typical ‘rags to riches’ story. He never really graduated but is intelligent and smart. His school was life. Poker, a job that helped him to get over the rounds. Like today. Cheating helped him to win, to survive." Malcolm retold the story he had already figured out after the first round. This time though, he was even more convinced of it. The killer reanimated his life story in an abstract way. He was an artist, but instead of writing or drawing he portrayed his masterwork with murderers. That's what made him so unique and interesting. Someday people in Quantico would learn about him, Bright had no doubts. Even if this case wasn't that big yet in the publicity. Real artists only got acknowledged after their own life ended.

"What are you trying to tell us." Gil tried to speed things up, his finger circling in the air. Malcolm looked at every single one of them before continuing.

"The Game Master's legacy was built on life experiences, hard work, and illegal benefits. He can rub his smartness in our faces as often he wants. One thing remains. Without his illegal ways and all this cheating he would be a nobody." Bright finished quietly. He turned his head towards the picture of their first crime scene. All these televisions on his command. "And yet he managed to present us a real technical show at our first round."

It dawned on each one of them at the same time. JT pushed himself away from the frame and attempted a few steps towards Bright. "Are you trying to say there are two of them?" He blurted out in shock. "No way." Dani threw in, her voice higher due to panic.

"Maybe an accomplice? Or another vic? Definitely a hacker, or at least a very talented technical expert." Bright threw back.

"Maybe a sibling?" Gil guessed. Malcolm shook his head reluctantly. "Wouldn't make much sense, given they should share the same scholar privileges." He objected.

"Not if there were separated orphans." Dani threw in, Malcolm gave her that point. Still, he didn't think of it as highly possible. Their killer seemed to be strongly affected by a false sense of family. Abuse even maybe. The four of them were like a family, spending so much time together, if only for work. They got very close and comfortable over time. Was he driven by vengeful motives towards families? Still didn't answer the question, why _them_?

Gil clapped his hands to gain everyone's attention. "Alright, from now on we have to assume that we might be chasing two people. If the unknown technic expert is just a helping hand in the background or actively supporting murder is irrelevant. That's for the judge to solve. We focus on catching those bastards in the first place." He announced. His eyes searched for equal understanding and motivation within the other ones of his teammates.

"Now go." He closed the meeting. His two men dashed out of the briefing room, discussing their following plans of action. Gil walked towards Dani to give her an own assignment. At the desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm being honest with you guys, Bright completely caught me off guard when he proposed that accomplice theory. Like, I wasn't planning that, but daamn I'm fine with it. Yes I know I'm the author, I'm supposed to be in control, but they just keep doing what they want!!


	10. Chapter 9

Malcolm sighed frustrated, removing his eyes from JT’s form. The day before had been a disaster and this one sure gonna was follow the lead. JT and Bright drove through New York, desperately stopping by to search for their particular businessman. Where did they draw the line? Was it just some manager of a fast food restaurant or instead maybe a big company?

Malcolm didn't know, therefore he had to listen the whole day to an annoyed JT cursing their assignment. After that, his mother insisted he'd join her and Ainsley at dinner where she tried to convince him to finally get laid and pop out some grandchildren. Alright, that was merely the gist of it, Jessica had been blabbering like a waterfall. The only pause he received was when his mother started to attack his sister. He felt earnest pity. And relief.

He wasn't ready to repeat all of that but talking to Gil wouldn't help. They really had no other leads than this. Malcolm's eyes found Dani at her desk and his mood brightened.

"Hey Dani." He walked towards her with a nod. She turned her head and chuckled at him. "How's your leg?" The question fell out immediately. He prayed it wouldn't awaken any horrific memories from that faithful night. He himself was pretty familiar with how traumas work.

Given he'd received a heavy blow to the head he didn't remember a lot of what happened. And Dani refused to fill him in. So he was left with the sole knowledge that they both somehow managed to survive the encounter with their killer. Bright with a surprisingly nasty head wound, Dani with several minor cuts and one big stab wound in her right thigh.

"Hurting as hell. But it will be okay." Dani huffed honestly. Bright hummed absently and leaned on her desk, wishing he could stay with her, whatever the assignment.

"So what's your deal?" He asked curiously. They already left yesterday before Gil explained her task. He was hoping she was still on the case at least and not doing some minor crime's paperwork.

"He ordered me to inform myself on customizing playing cards." She deadpanned. "You know, where to order and question everyone, the usual stuff." She sounded demotivated, and if Bright was being honest, he would be, too. True, all of it was sparked by his idea, still it was kind of a waste of time. And no matter how often Gil mentioned they had plenty of it, they didn't. Maybe they were freed of other distractions, but it was still unknown when the killer would strike again. It could be today or in two weeks. Everything was open.

"Yikes." Malcolm huffed, the same amount of motivation as hers filling his statement. "Ordering on the internet must be an easy guess. Easy to track. Everyone does that nowadays, right?" He guessed away.

Dani shook her head vehemently. "Just the opposite. _Everyone_ would do that. How should I know from bank accounts who a killer is and who not?" She huffed frustrated and snapped her pen away. It banged with a dull sound on her keyboard, slowly and painfully rolling back.

Malcolm observed her carefully, choosing his words like he would his steps on a minefield. "So are there any businessmen involved or just, you know, private clients?" He shrugged, testing if the water was hot, cold, or deadly poisoned acid.

Dani pinged the bridge of her nose. She took a couple of deep breaths. "Most of the websites aren't even giving me any names or an official order list." She confessed calmly, Bright's shoulders slumping down in disappointment. "Which reminds me, I still have to make plenty of infuriating calls today." She growled and glared at her telephone. She spared one look at her colleague with a frustrated smile. "I dearly hope your work is any better." She added forcibly, holding her breath. "It's really not." Bright pressed behind gritted teeth in the same low volume.

"Bright we're out. Now, or your rich ass can get yourself a taxi." JT called over the precinct and stomped towards the exit, his jacket in his arm. Malcolm watched him leaving, wondering if he'd really force him to get a taxi and drive alone.

"Grumpy." Dani commented to the scenery dryly. Her dark eyes followed the other detective before flickering back to their consultant. "You should really go, I fear he means it." She advised. Bright nodded reluctantly and left the comfort of the desk. He hesitated, but at the end he inhaled a deep breath and turned around, more or less confident.

"What I’ve been meaning to ask you... How about we check out the casinos?" He proposed, feeling puny and weak all of a sudden. Dani frowned irritated. "Why...?" She started, ending with a slight up, motivating him to keep going.

Nervously Bright scratched his neck. "Erm, obviously these games of chance and luck are a big motive of our killer. I think we could get a bit closer if we try to understand his world." Bright explained. Dani chuckled, a little flushed on her cheeks.

"For a moment there I thought you were silly enough to ask me out on a date."

Malcolm turned his head to the side, mostly to hide the embarrassment of his face. "That would be crazy... Right?" He returned a light laugh. They refused to look each other in their eyes, Dani removing a loose strand of hair from her face.

"Anyway, what's your call?" Bright cleared his throat and was ready to face her. Dani didn't seem convinced.

"I don't know. Gil doesn’t want me on the field while my leg is still... you know." She sighed, gesturing down on her leg.

A smug grin appeared on Bright's face. "Who says it got anything to do with work?" Dani raised one eyebrow suspiciously and suppressed an excited grin. "Just two friends meeting late at night. At the casino. Playing Poker."

"Alright, I'm in." Dani gave up in defeat, a big grin going from her left ear to her right one. "So it's a date!" Bright cheered happily. Dani raised one eyebrow at him, startling him. "Er, I mean, a friendly get-together!" He corrected awkwardly, sending a jolt of laughter through Dani.

He remembered his annoying partner and that he really should catch up to him. "So see you later. At your place, I pick you up." He declared, already moving towards the exit in a hurry. Dani gave him a simple thumbs up. He sped down the stairs, nearly bumping into several officers. The wind was frigid but mostly strong. He arrived at the side of the streets, his hair already in a mess. The parking lot was empty. Malcolm huffed frustrated.

"Jerk."


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha yeah, last chapter was late. That's no reason to delay this one. My calendar says 28.01. - chapter 10 so here you go!

Malcolm paid the driver and watched him disappear into the busy streets of New York. He took a deep breath of the dusty city air and moved towards the building with a fake smile. He read somewhere that a faked smile can improve your mood, but he failed to remember how long that would take, given the total taxi ride of 15 minutes wasn't sufficient. His empty coffee cup landed in the next bin. The door opened automatically. JT stood restlessly in the reception, waiting for him he hoped.

"I told you I would drive." He huffed instead of greeting Bright. The profiler chuckled amused. "I wasn't arguing." He replied, spreading his hands to the sides. JT glared suspiciously at him, as if Bright was using some sort of reversed psychology without him noticing his devilish plans. Bright had to suppress a laugh, there was nothing at all he wanted to achieve. More than anything he was impressed JT stood to his words and abandoned his partner at the precinct.

Probably a change of topic was more needed right now, JT was already enough in a bad mood as it was. "Did you wait extra for me?" He asked innocently, genuinely interested. JT glared at him.

"Of course not. But that lady at the reception ignored me completely. She asked if I had an appointment. I barely said no, and she didn't acknowledge me anymore." He protested frustrated. Bright raised one eyebrow in surprise. "Not even your badge-?" "Not even my badge worked on her!" He groaned and buried his face in his palms. Bright studied the woman behind the counter and immediately knew how to break her. Her shell! How to break her shell and get through to her.

"So you did wait for me." Malcolm cooed and ignored JT's death glare. He walked straight to the receptionist. He repositioned his hair smoothly to the back and folded his hand before his body.

"Hello, Miss. I'd like to see your office manager." He demanded politely. The woman was engrossed in her work at her PC. She was probably playing Minesweeper and trying to look busy.

"Do you have an appointment?" She muttered disinterested, her eyes plastered to the monitor. Malcolm cleared his voice to summon a voice he learned by watching his mother.

"Of course I do!" He replied, remarking the receptionist's actions as outrageous. His mother wasn't a genius for nothing.

The aftereffects were tremendous. The woman was immediately spiked by nervousness. She opened her journal next to her, readjusting her glasses and flying over her notes. "Your name?" She asked without stopping her search to find the next appointment.

Malcolm stemmed his fists on his hip. "Is this some joke to you!" He bellowed frustrated. The poor woman was already sweating. He had just to push one more button, just a little bit. " _I_ will have a word with your official manager and he will-" Malcolm started, already sounding like a male version of his mother.

The woman jumped up from her seat and shut the useless journal. "No need!" She squeaked and hurried out of her safe place. She headed to the door and opened it for them. "I will inform Mr. Sanders of your arrival immediately." Her voice was high pitched, her lower lip trembling dangerously.

"Finally!" Malcolm exclaimed annoyed and walked over to the door like the biggest drama queen. He looked behind him at a very shocked JT. "Would you hurry up? We don't have all day." He scolded the man. JT hurried to his side, the receptionist bowing her head in shame.

"Ugh! Nowadays it's too hard to find competent employees." Malcolm scoffed at JT and the woman altogether before disappearing into the hallway, confidently walking to where he assumed would lead to the right office.

The door behind them shut, his act dropping with it the exact time. JT sprinted next to him and stared at him out of torn open eyes. "What the hell was that all about?" He blurted out. Malcolm merely shrugged. "I got us in." He answered obviously.

JT shook his head, still trying to comprehend what just happened out there. "I didn't know you could be such a- wow." JT exhaled speechlessly.

Malcolm grinned at him challengingly. "I imitated my mother, so choose your words carefully." He advised. JT shook his head in disbelief, slowly restoring his mind after that encounter. "From what I saw you learned from the best." He decided to say and mimicked to take his hat off for her. Malcolm laughed, shaking his head.

The silent vibration of a mobile caught both men off guard. JT glanced at Malcolm who fished out his phone and looked intently at the caller ID.

"God you're annoying." JT groaned and leaned against the wall to wait for him to finish his call. "Come on, I literally did nothing this time." Bright protested in a pout. "You're not gonna take that one?" The detective asked instead. Malcolm grimaced mildly and looked back down. "Nah, it's probably just, oh wait no. One second." He pushed the green button to the unknown caller. His father was saved as _Psychiatric Claremont_ by now, so that couldn't be him.

"Hello?" He spoke into his phone. His hand jerked away when the loud voice met with his ear. "You are the lucky winne-" He hung up immediately, catching an amused look on JT. Malcolm shook his head and was about to tuck his phone away when it started buzzing again.

"Ugh!" He groaned frustrated. "For the love of-" He pushed the green button with more force than required. "No. I don't want to buy anything!" He yelled back, his finger flying over to the red button.

"My boy!"

He froze in his tracks. He swallowed hard to recover from this shock, persistently ignoring JT's concerned looks.

"I gotta say, I'm surprised you answered." His father chirped happily as ever. Malcolm took a shuddering breath and banned all of his insecurity. He summoned the cool and rational mind he was so proud of. Starting then it was impossible to unsee it. His father’s words were a lie.

"You arranged that, didn't you." He deadpanned with a steady voice, referring to the fake call.

"I have no idea what you mean, my son." His father's voice quipped from the other side. Malcolm sighed frustrated. "Now, you had your fun. Be aware that will never work again. Goodbye Dr. W-"

"Wait!" His voice was urgent. Malcolm cursed himself for not ending the call earlier. He steadied his shaking hand and turned his back to JT. "I have no time to chat right now, Dr. Whitley." Malcolm spoke with a strong voice.

"Then let's talk about your case!" His father proposed excitedly. Of course, what was he thinking? An emergency? Hence, the urgency in his voice? His father just wanted to poke further into his already fragile life.

"We will not." Malcolm decided firmly. He spared one glance at JT and reminded himself to hurry up and not keep him waiting any longer.

"No, okay, I understand. It's just, I'm curious." His father admitted, still optimistically, probably wandering in his cell as he speaks. "The news barely gives any information, and I don't even have to mention the murders." Dr. Whitley went on. It was obvious Ainsley had less material to present given the police itself had only scraps to work with.

"What do you mean with the murders?" Malcolm recaptured, annoyed that Dr. Whitley actually managed to capture his curiosity. He could see his father moving his lips in a delighted _Oh?_ He tried to ignore the bitter taste it left with him.

"Oh you know, those weren't real murders. No emotion was inside of them. We killers can feel such a thing, don't we?" His father responded, a surge of fury blasting through Malcolm's body. Not because he assumed they were the same as he always did, but because he was right. He did feel it.

"But that doesn't make sense. Why murder when it doesn't mean anything? Why put so much effort into it for nothing. Unless there is one bigger aim? Something major crimes is keeping from the publicity?" His father assumed. Malcolm facepalmed and tried to laugh over it to show how absurd Martin was.

"That's just, no. You're not getting any extra details, Dr. Whitley." Malcolm laughed, planning to end this call any second.

"Alright! Gimme the details son!"

Malcolm's eyes narrowed annoyed. He forgot, a liar always knows another liar. Which is why he's probably so good at his job.

"I want to help you, son. You're obviously short on leads and panicked flailing won't do anyone good." His father advised.

Malcolm spared him the 'How did you know'. That was irrelevant for now. All of Dr. Whitley was irrelevant. He didn't concern the case. "You are not on this case. You are a serial killer." Malcolm stated matter of factly. By this point he didn't even dare to check JT's reaction.

"Exactly! I'm a serial killer, he is a serial killer, that's why I understand him better than anyone." Martin sent his argument to Malcolm with agitation in his voice. Malcolm rolled his eyes. Understanding serial killers, that was literally his job and he was fucking good at it.

"Malcolm. Not every detective has the chance to receive the help of a real serial killer. That's an opportunity." His father spoke in all his earnest. Malcolm snorted unamused.

"And the night terrors and traumata just go by or what." He hissed, the joke coming out dry and humorless.

Martin sighed on the other end of the line. "I'm not saying you're lucky to have a father like me. What I'm implying is, you paid your price, Malcolm. The night terrors won't just leave, nor the traumas, no matter what you do. Now what you can do is try to ignore me and make your handicapped life even more difficult. Or you could use your opportunity."

Dr. Martin Whitley is known for being a sadistic liar and manipulator. But damn he's good at it. Malcolm shook his head, reprimanding him not to give in. Not to make a deal with the devil. He already did with their copy case cat. And now he couldn't get this man out of his life anymore.

"What do you have to lose, Malcolm?" His father pushed further without giving Malcolm enough time to recover from the manipulation, from the sweet but bitter apple.

"Time. A lot of precious time in fact." He deadpanned. The hands were back on his throat, Dani crying in his arms. JT and Gil were next. They couldn't waste another second.

"Aren't you wasting your time right now?" Yes, yes they are. Is Mr. Sanders their killer? Probably not, just like all the other men they encountered the day before. New York was too big. How far would Malcolm go to protect his friends? His work family?

He put his hand on the speaker and looked at JT. Go, he formed with his lips. JT shot him an incredulous look. Are you serious, he mouthed back frustrated. Malcolm nodded apologetically and marched back towards the exit. JT cursing in the background while stomping to the office.

"Alright Dr. Whitley, you have one chance. One chance to prove yourself worthy of my time."

"Excellent!" His father chirped delighted, like a toddler that just received the lollypop he wanted. Malcolm could take it away whenever he wanted. And maybe he could even enjoy it while it was worth it.

He stepped into the fresh morning, the breeze already messing with his hair. "Isn't this wonderful? Father and son reunited again. I think we should give each other names, like in the old spy movies. You could be-" Malcolm pushed the red button before his father could even say a word. Then he waited. Watched the people walk, minding their own business. His phone buzzed.

"Don't you think that was a little bit harsh?" His father growled hurt from the other side.

"My thumb is over the red button, Dr. Whitley. Do you want to test how often I'm going to accept your calls, or will you stop straining my patience?" Malcolm deadpanned ignorantly. He wanted to show his indisputable dominance. He had the upper hand at all times. It was important for him to clear that because he was the one who needed the information. He needed to see this case from another angle. As hard as it was to accept, he needed Martin Whitley. If he would make the mistake to fall again to the lower position he would need to bargain. Bargain his free time on visits, just like the first time. It was a clear mistake he dearly regretted and didn't want to repeat.

"Alright, alright, but first I need some more details. You do understand that?" His father sighed dismissively. Malcolm nodded.

"The first victim was only a lure. The second one was an unnecessary evil. His goal is clear and indisputable. He wants us. Major crimes. He wants to mess with us, play with us." Malcolm explained sharply. He could hear Martin keeping his breath.

"Well, that is a one of a kind killer." He murmured after a pause. Malcolm observed the passerby cautiously. Ready to catch any suspicious glances and hurl them back. Luckily he remained ignored.

"Every new round he picks a new victim out of us four. We already lost two rounds." Malcolm added briefly. He looked over Martin's snarky remarks, for example, that's not a good quote. Martin was just being Martin. Silly. Malcolm had no breath to waste for such things.

"Good, but there's still more. I wanna hear it. Tell me everything!" His father exclaimed excitedly. Glad to hear that his nightmares becoming reality was such a thrill for his very caring father. He rolled his eyes and added it to the long list of _infuriating things he ignores for his own health._ "You want to hear my profile?" Malcolm questioned, his eyes burning into every new citizen that walked past him.

"Yes."

After Malcolm repeated his words from the early morning, Martin stayed completely muted. It was quite enjoyable, but it only lasted as long as his profile was laid open before the serial killer. "Uff, that is one tricky killer you’re after, gotta admit." The surgeon said, enthusiastically like every day. Did he get that in his coffee? "But I'm also kinda jealous how he fools you all and-"

Malcolm waited through the typical silence for the next buzzing of his phone. Seconds later his father was back in the line.

"Seriously? You gonna hang up on me whenever I-" Once again the silence was back. Malcolm whistled a peaceful tone during Martin's forced pause. His phone jumped back into life. Malcolm accepted it with the energy to begin this conversation.

"Is this how you're going to waste your phone calls?" He spoke nonchalantly into his phone, his thumb already lingering over the red button. Martin's breathing was already audible. Malcolm was aggravating him, maddening him until he would burst or give up.

" _Time,_ Malcolm, I have phone _Time!_ The number doesn't ma-"

This time Malcolm chuckled to himself. Martin was used to be the cat, playing with mice in his pawn. He certainly didn't like it the other way around. Malcolm enjoyed every part of it, if it weren't for the nagging feeling that a certain killer was after them. He thought about getting softer with Martin. With a sinister grin he decided to reach to the full extent.

"Okay Malcolm, this is becoming a bit silly, don't you thi-"

" _You_ require the information Malcolm, so don't you hang up-"

"I don't remember raising you lik-"

"Malcolm, if you don't stop this nonsense I WILL-"

After that one particular call, it took more time for Dr. Whitley to call back. Malcolm waited anxiously. Maybe he had gone too far. Wasted too much time to gain nothing.

He observed the civilians in the street, nervously flipping his phone in his hand. Would Dr. Whitley call him back? More importantly, how should he react if that would be the case?

He would poker. Go full in.

His phone buzzed and he waited several seconds to accept it. His hand was trembling tremendously, the light of his phone blurring in his vision. He took a deep breath, that was all he needed to motivate himself. To be brave enough to finish what he started.

"Malcolm my boy, I'm sorry about what happened just now with the-"

"5."

Malcolm cut him off sharply. Martin failed to understand yet the ordeal he would have to suffer through. "How about you come to my place, you know, the door is always open for you my boy." He said with a wink. "We could chat about it with a cup of tea-"

"4."

Malcolm counted down, so finally it should dawn on Martin, or some would suppose. Maybe he was just really good at ignoring things. Or at digging his own grave.

"Four? Four o'clock you mean? Yeah that's totally fine by me, you know I don't have many things bothering me, anytime would be fine-"

"3."

Malcolm let first signs of impatience leak through his steady tone. He spared a look at his watch, concluding that JT should soon exit the building.

"Alright, I get it. I promise I stop wasting your precious time any longer and give you what I promised-"

"2."

Malcolm continued regardless. Martin wasn't talking. He was signing up for defeat, but what Malcolm desired were his thoughts on the case and nothing else. His methods seemed harsh, but… He noticed there was no 'but' to that sentence. His methods to achieve what he needed were cold and egoistic to the core.

"Ok Malcolm I understand, alright? You get my thoughts on-"

"1."

Malcolm sighed tragically, his thumb hovering over the red button. If he wouldn't show his severity now Martin would know for the future that everything was nothing more than a charade. His pride was stronger than his logical sense this time. He wouldn't accept another call after that one. He'd hang up and go out empty-handed. What else did he expect? This was a waste of time. There was nothing Dr. Martin Whitley could give him that he didn't already know.

"Why did he choose you!"

Malcolm's thumb froze over the red button. His father's heavy breaths screamed into his ear. That one question. That one question lingering unanswered in his brain. Did Martin really have the answer to it?

"I can tell why he chose you four, although there are enough people in New York to mess with." His father promised. Malcolm repositioned his finger far away from the end call button. "Go on." He urged him patiently.

He could see his father visibly pushing his hair behind while starting his monologue. "I agree with the rags to riches story, or that he manifests his life into this game. He had a hard childhood and it didn't get easier as a teenager. Or as a young adult for that matter. Life was never easy on him." His breath calmed down and he must be walking in his room from left to right, forth and back, his arms folded behind his back. "But now it is." He said, raising his index finger into the air.

"Our killer seems to live the perfect life. Money is no problem anymore because he has enough of it. Women are no problem, he must be handsome, so every girl willingly jumps into bed with him. He reached his life goal and is living la Vida Loca." Martin exaggerated with wild gestures Malcolm could sense from the other end. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"So what's his problem if he supposedly has none." He growled offended. He saw Martin's innocent face when the words washed towards him.

"Oh simple, really. He's bored."

Malcolm took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. He opened them, immediately glaring at an imaginary point. "So you intend to say,” He started with the voice of an angel, gradually becoming quieter, “that this man terrorizes our lives because he’s _bored_?!” Malcolm hissed sharply into his phone, his tone quiet enough for no one to raise any suspicion.

"Don't get this wrong, Malcolm. People like us, we are predators. A comfortable cushy life leaves us bored, and that is the last thing you want a predator to be." Martin explained calmly. Malcolm swallowed, his throat hurt. He shouldn't overstrain it.

"But _you_ got laid. _You_ had a comfortable life." Malcolm objected offended.

"I also killed 23 people." The surgeon commented on the side. Of course, it dawned on him. His father was a convicted serial killer, how could he forget something like that.

"For me personally, I needed to extend my hobby. The adrenaline kick was a minor factor that constantly rose, but I was more interested in, well, other things." He chuckled, severity returning immediately. "Predators need to be challenged. If not, we search for them ourselves. Your killer there is addicted to it, he's been raised with it. He can't exist without those challenges. And what bigger challenge would there be than to provoke the Major Crimes Unit of his own city?"

Malcolm mused about the fact for a second. "You think that's why he chose us?" He could hear Martin shrug from the other end of the line.

"Well yeah, wait. Did you think _I_ was the problem, that _I_ attracted the serial killer to you? Son, you can't blame everything on me." Martin groaned unnerved. Malcolm rolled his eyes. "So we just pretend Watkins never happened or..." He snorted annoyed, agitating Martin even more. "Well okay there was one time I made a huge mistake and found a wrong friend-"

"Focus Dr. Whitley." Malcolm snapped his fingers. He wasn't eager to open any old traumas while he was currently working on a new one.

"Sure." His father growled, not happy about this harsh treatment. He seemed to swallow his bile, because Malcolm received neutral silence, clearing the stage for him.

"That surely is quite the relevant information. We can circle every famous and wealthy company leader in this city, that might provide the aid we need." He mused with his free hand on his chin.

"See? I told you, your old man is still useful-" Malcolm was already thinking ahead, picking out names that were familiar to him. Suddenly this wasn't like a needle in the haystack anymore. There was a fox in the henhouse and all they had to do was to open their eyes and find the wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Thank you Dr. Whitley for your assistance." He dismissed his father coldly. He would grab JT and lead him to Mr. Farrow since that was the nearest company given their location. Adrenaline pushed through his veins and he didn't feel like wasting it on an already locked away criminal.

"Wait Malcolm, there's one thing I'd like to add!" Martin yelled, probably from the completely other side of his cell. Malcolm sighed and pinged the bridge of his nose. "If you must." He gave in. Martin cleared his throat and Malcolm already felt silly for this. He should leave and catch a killer, not listen to his father’s shenanigans.

"This man plays games with you, Malcolm."

"You don't say." He commented dryly. His father ignored him.

"He plays them because he's good at them. He really is." Martin continued. Malcolm swallowed, feeling that his father was actually onto something. He was about to give him a tip on how to beat him, he certainly was.

"Don't play his games."

Malcolm frowned surprised, he didn't expect that.

"Playing after his own rules will never lead you to victory. You have to play by your rules. Play _your_ game." Dr. Martin Whitley purred dangerously, his sinister maniac grin creeping down Malcolm's back.

"That sounds in fact pretty unconventional." Malcolm croaked and positioned his tie that closed all of a sudden very tight to his neck.

"Oh my boy, that's how life works. Opening up to risks is a constant action of ourselves. Beware that this action can provide you with a very deadly risk though. You could catch the killer by disobeying his rules, or you could force him into a corner, resourceless. Then he will reach his limit of monstrosity you can’t even begin to imagine."

Malcolm breathed hardly into the micro, the words sinking into his brain. The situation felt already tight before talking to his father. Now every passing second was filled with agonizing anticipation. What was this killer capable of? How could Malcolm even break the rules and what would be the consequences?

"Alright then, son! Have a nice day and good luck finding that killer. If you need my help, I always have time for you!" His father changed back into his cheerful mood. Then the call ended. Malcolm still stood with his phone pressed to his ear. Staring through the individual citizens. Listening to the peeping of the ended call.

JT left the building, Malcolm wasn't quite sure for how long he'd been blacking out. He tucked his phone with shaky hands back into his coat and walked with big steps to his partner. "Well there he is, our Mr. Sneak-away-from-work." JT grumbled, rolling his eyes annoyed. He ignored Malcolm catching up to him, maybe he was even eager to drive away without him. Again.

"Hold up JT." Malcolm sprinted after the man who disappeared in the car. Quickly he grabbed the door and plumped into the seat next to the driver. JT blew raspberries as he worked on getting his car started. "How 'bout stopping at the Foleman company. I hear they repair roofs, small company, but this Mr. Sanders was a complete bust." JT grumbled, concentrated on meddling himself into the busy street life.

"To Farrow." Malcolm objected. JT shot him a look and back to the street. "You know Gil told us to check every possible suspect. It would be a waste to drive to this part of the city and leave those few here left out." He scolded his partner who had been barely any help this day so far.

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders, his facial expression staying constant. "I'm just narrowing down." JT raised one eyebrow at him, motioning for him to go on.

"Wealth is what we're looking for. Our killer got too comfortable with his achievements, that's why he's looking for challenges. Us." Malcolm filled him in. JT's eyes were glued to the street.

"Neat." He admitted coolly. "Got that all from talking to your old man?" He spared one look at him. Malcolm didn't even catch his eyes before they were back to the street. "Yeah." He sighed.

They drove in silence for several seconds. Standing at the red light, JT waited to choose his direction. "Can we trust him?" He asked earnestly. Malcolm hesitated to answer. He shifted on his seat, the light shifting to green.

"I think so." He replied, but JT didn't drive. Instead he grabbed his shoulder. "Can we trust the surgeon, Bright?" He repeated more urgently. Malcolm swallowed hardly, uncomfortably listening to the cars behind them honking. The picture of his father grinning maniacally appeared in his mind.

"Yes. We can."

JT started the engine and drove left. To Farrow's enterprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the relationship between Malcolm and Martin was so fun! Martin is such a cool character, one of the reasons I love Prodigal son!!


	12. Chapter 11

The sky was going to bed. A slightly pink-orange colored blanket covered the once clear blue sky, fading bits of clouds riding along the remaining blue waves. It was yet too early for stars, but the moon was already finishing the holy art.

Malcolm lowered his gaze from the sky and opened the door, stepping out into the real and freezing world. He shivered into his coat, but the temperature was still manageable. At least it wasn't snowing like a few days ago. JT stomped past him with confident and strong steps, Malcolm always had troubles keeping up with those.

They entered the last company for this day. Their newest suspect on their list: Mr. Coleman. He didn't even hope this one would be a catch. He was supposed to meet later with Dani and he really wished to find their killer tomorrow. He awoke from spacing out and approached the scene to assist JT at the reception.

"I'm so sorry, no appointment, no meeting. Especially not this late." The woman answered honestly to the detective, her eyes fleeting to the modest clock on the wall. She seemed tired and probably wanted nothing more than to call an end for this day.

"We _do_ have an appointment." Bright countered back from the other side of the desk. The woman groaned annoyed. "Name?" She began to spiral in her standard questioning Malcolm was all too familiar by now.

"Murder."

The woman searched in her journal before she was startled. "Excuse me?" She blurted out in what was still disbelief. Before she could think of mishearing JT held up his badge to confirm Bright’s word.

"We're here investigating a murder. We need to question Mr. Coleman urgently." He added coolly. Fear was visibly creeping over her face. These weren't only normal police officers. She was denying real detectives to investigate a real murder. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize." She spilled and grabbed her telephone, swiftly dialing a number. The seconds they waited were uncomfortable for everyone.

Her eyes widened. "Ah, hello Mr. Coleman, sorry to interrupt you this late. I have two guests who urgently need to share a word with you." She hurried, trying to avoid looking at the two men behind her counter. The two partners observed her with little interest.

"It's the police, Sir." She added earnestly. After that, she nodded several times. "Alright, I'll send them up." The phone landed back into its place and her bright eyes locked with theirs.

"The boss is ready to see you, just go to the elevator, fifth floor and right." She explained, her fingers pointing towards the mentioned direction. Both men nodded gratefully, JT turned around and walked to the elevator. "Thank you." Bright hummed softly and followed his partner.

They stood next to each other in tight silence. JT had his arms crossed before his chest, Malcolm folded his hands down. He seesawed to the typical elevator music, from his toes to heels, a huge grin constantly on his face. JT glared at him without changing his rocky position. Malcolm glanced at him innocently. "What? It's quite catchy." He chuckled in defense. JT rolled his eyes and concentrated back on the door, ignoring the profiler next to him.

The door parted into both sides. JT walked out as if he spent here every morning. Without any insecurities, he marched down the right alley until they reached a room. Malcolm was impressed by how sturdy JT sometimes could be. He feared the wooden door would burst under his partner's knocks.

"Come in." A clear voice welcomed them from the other side of the door. JT marched into the room, Bright appearing right behind him.

"Good evening gentlemen." Mr. Coleman greeted them politely. He offered them a seat and took place on his big leather chair. He was a middle-aged man, probably around in his late thirties. He had a smooth beardless chin, which made him look younger than he probably was. His black hair was slicked to the back and he was dressed in a tight suit, setting out his tender body form.

He threw one leg over the other and folded his hands on the table. His grey eyes watched them intensely. "What brings you two to my humble office, detectives?" Mr. Coleman asked and observed their reactions.

" _I'm_ detective Tarmel. This is our consultant Malcolm Bright." Malcolm glanced at him in shy amusement. He just had to clear that before starting the official questioning. Well, JT had his chance.

"Homicide. A young woman and a man were murdered. We're here to ask you just some questions." Malcolm explained with a smug look, satisfied he took that from JT.

Mr. Coleman wasn't shocked. "That's horrendous, truly. Don't get this wrong, officers-" "Detective." JT meddled annoyed behind gritted teeth. "-But I don't see why I should care." Mr. Coleman ignored him delicately. Malcolm frowned at the other man's statement. Not something happening often.

"My concern is narrowed to this company's success and my own family. Your work carries no interest to me." He added further.

"Not even when you're on the suspect list?”

For the first time, the man showed signs of nervousness. Bright only needed to figure out if this was natural or suspicious.

Mr. Coleman smiled. "I don't see why this should intimidate me. As I said earlier, nothing but this company concerns my interest. I'm innocent, this is a waste of time for both sides. But if wasting our money fulfills you, feel free to do your _work._ " JT glared at him, concealing his anger from this man.

"If you're truly innocent the questions should be no problem for you. We'll be done very quickly." Bright filled in meanwhile, smiling politely at the unsympathetic man. The problem was, he had some similarities to their killer, but so did some of the other suspects have. Finding their killer by his looks proved to be the hardest challenge so far.

"Be my guest." Mr. Coleman spread his arms mildly to the side. He made himself comfortable in his seat. Bright had a hard time seeing through these cold and hollow businessmen. JT didn't need to grab his files, by now he was very familiar with all the details of their murder. Unfortunately, Mr. Coleman happened to present enough alibi and plenty of witnesses. That man was as clear as a freshly cleaned pot. Malcolm let the harmless interrogation wash over him, trying to find a way to lure out any useful signs of Mr. Coleman.

"I'm sorry-" Bright interrupted Mr. Coleman during one of his long answers. "-have we ever met before?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the irritated man. "I don't know, you seem familiar. Like I saw you before, at a café maybe?" Malcolm pushed further, referring to the time he accidentally bought poisoned tea for Dani and himself.

Coleman smiled at him with vicious pity. "I don't visit cafés. It's a waste of my time." He replied sharply.

Bright nodded with an unbeatable smirk. He was going to destroy him. Men like Coleman loved to talk, so far that's all he's been doing. Talking more than JT even wanted to hear. Now Malcolm would take the lead. And he would force him under his dominance, because in terms of talking, Malcolm was the champion. He wasn't satisfied with the bits Coleman offered. He needed everything of him, especially the things the man wasn't even aware of himself.

The CEO took his eyes off Malcolm and went back to JT. "So, where was I-"

"Keep your breath. We're not interested. I have some other questions." Bright interrupted yet again very crudely. Mr. Coleman glared at him deadly. JT somehow was very fine with Malcolm doing his own thing. He leaned back and enjoyed the show.

"What's your favorite color?" Malcolm asked enthusiastically. Coleman blinked perplexed at him. "What the..?" He gasped surprised. He wasn't amused by how silly the questioning had turned out to be.

"Don't you have a favorite color, Sir?" Malcolm continued disappointed. He fished out a notebook and started writing into it. Coleman's eyes shifted frantically to him and his notebook. "Wait, what are you writing?" He asked nervously, looking at JT for support. The detective observed his profiler proudly. When Malcolm looked up from his notebook, the boss flinched back.

"Do you like animals?" Mr. Coleman looked at Bright as if he was the biggest idiot that has ever set foot in his office.

"Are you being serious?" He checked with a growl. Malcolm smiled brightly.

"I have a parakeet, her name's sunshine, she's very sweet." He responded instead. Coleman filled his palm with his forehead and sighed while shaking his head.

"No, I do not like animals." He answered behind gritted teeth.

Bright nodded and returned to making notes. "Did you know Mr. Coleman, that most serial killers begin their career with murdering animals, such as stray cats?" He mentioned without looking up.

Coleman sat straight in his chair. "That doesn't prove anything." He claimed coldly, almost too urgent for someone innocent. Bright ignored him. "Oh, he knows that." JT mixed in, arms crossed before his chest. "It's just the way he is. Popping up some random murder facts." He explained casually.

Bright looked up. "What is your favorite game?" Was the next question. Coleman leaned back in his chair. "What is your deal, man?" He sighed exhaustedly. Malcolm chuckled.

"I take this as a no." He wrote in his journal. "Not even card games? Late at night at the casino? You certainly don't lack the money. Given you _win_ every game?" Malcolm glanced up and smirked dangerously at him. Coleman shook his head slowly.

"This really is becoming a huge waste of time." He muttered into his palm. He lowered his head and pointed with his open palm to the door. "Please see yourselves out."

"Why did your father hate you?"

"What?"

JT readjusted himself in his seat and went to observe the tensing up situation even closer. Bright grinned, a sinister glint sparkling in his blue orbs. "No, he didn't hate you. He didn't _care._ That must be where you got that habit from." Malcolm mused, clicking his pen shut. He noticed the sweat on Coleman's temple. He laid the notebook over his crossed knee. "Tell me, Sir. Is there even a family to return to?"

Coleman swallowed the shot and lifted his head to glare daggers at the profiler. "There _is._ " He growled and promptly stood up. He walked with big steps to the door and opened it aggressively.

"It was nice talking to you. Good evening." He spoke coldly, mentioning for them to get lost. Bright gladly accepted the invitation. He stood up and repositioned his suit, JT following right behind.

"It really has not been. The lies won't do you any good Mr. Coleman." Malcolm advised when he stood right next to him. The man eyeballed him furiously. Being so close to the man, Malcolm hoped for the first time to feel the hands on his throat. Was he the killer?

He walked disappointed out of the room. The door fell shut with a loud bang. He didn't feel the hands on his throat. JT exchanged looks with him. "Is he sus?" He asked, hands in his pocket. Bright shrugged and simultaneously shook his head. He looked at his watch. It was time to head home. Get dressed and drive over to Dani.

"Let's continue tomorrow." He proposed. JT agreed.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so um... hi.  
> Remember when I promised to update every second day?  
> I failed.  
> I dragged this long-ass chapter into weeks, and by the way even started a new little story (Tasteless).  
> Anyways, enjoy this Brightwell chapter! :)

It was late at the night, but who said New York ever went to bed? The road was filled with endless car lights, blinding his exhausted eyes. He had them closed for a good while now since they started burning at one point. The lights managed to burn through his eyelids anyway.

The cab came to a halt on the side of the street. Malcolm opened his eyes and leaned to the door, prying it open. The door was about to fall back when a black hand stopped it. It was torn open. Bright smiled at Dani. She returned the smile and entered the cab.

"You look great." Malcolm complimented her looks. She had her hair stuck up into an elegant bun. The red dress she wore embraced her curves tightly. She smirked smugly at him, his face heating up in the process.

"You didn't pack your gun and badge?" He mentioned surprised. Dani raised one eyebrow at him.

"I thought we weren't on duty?" She caught him, sending him to scratch the back of his head nervously. "Just kidding." She chuckled and revealed a split in her long dress. A black ribbon with her gun and badge attached to it. Malcolm raised both eyebrows. Hats off to that.

"To be honest, I wasn’t expecting a dress like this." He began warmly. "Where does a detective need such a lustful outfit?" He asked curiously, but also with a challenging smirk.

Dani returned the favor. "Apparently for work." She replied. "I figured this would be the elegant crap you wear at a casino." Malcolm laughed over her words. He couldn't agree more with her.

Dani frowned. "Will we even get in?" She questioned, underlining her words with doubt. Malcolm had no worries.

"Everybody does if they offer enough money." Dani smiled cheekily at his words. "Thank god we have a rich boy in our team." She teased him. Malcolm glared playfully at her, but a smile fought off his strongest severity.

The place the casinos owned wore a completely different atmosphere than the rest of New York. Worriless party lust traveled through the passengers. Elegantly they stalked in, but once inside every modesty was thrown into the nearest trash can. Lots of limousines or cabs pulled next to the gigantic stairs. More and more lights fought off the dark December night. They shot up into the sky with every color of the rainbow.

Malcolm paid the driver and watched him take off. He turned around to Dani. She was freezing in her dress. "Shall we?" He offered his arm. She accepted it with a laugh. Like promised they got into the casino without major problems. They were early, yet the place was fully crowded. Dani cringed at the sight of so many insane humans.

"Morons. They do realize they're wasting their money?" She pointed out disdainfully. Malcolm shrugged. "Not if they're winning." He objected neutrally. His gaze wandered over the several locations. On the other end was a crowded bar. This place was bigger than Bright could see in one fell swoop. At first sight, he detected Roulette, standard automatic machines, and several tables for minor card games. And of course the most popular discipline: Poker.

"Would you like a drink?" A waiter, appearing out of nowhere, offered politely. Malcolm smiled and grabbed two glasses, handing one over to Dani. It was a martini.

"So... What's the plan?" Dani asked. She was uncomfortable, at a loss of what to do. This wasn't her world. Neither was it Malcolm's. "There's no way we could spot him somewhere in here. We're not that lucky." She muttered and sipped off her martini. Malcolm mused for a second.

"You do have a point." He admitted and swallowed the alcohol. "This is his world, Dani. We can try to understand him a little better." He uncovered the opportunity. He put his full glass somewhere on a table. Dani watched his moves and followed him helplessly.

"Have you ever played Poker?" He asked with one short glance at her. That was the only warning she received towards Bright’s plan. She shook her head vehemently. "Hell nah, not even once." She blurted out with big eyes. Malcolm shrugged a little disappointed. "Well then, I guess I have to ask you to watch my back." He offered clumsily. Dani rolled her eyes. "My pleasure."

He fished out a bundle of money and placed it on the board. The Game director looked at Bright and Dani, then at the money. He kept a professional severity. "Take a seat." He offered coldly. Malcolm was surprised by how easy this went. He sat down with all the other suited gentlemen. They snickered at him.

"Look at him. A snotty little upstart." Malcolm ignored the old white-bearded man who quickly glued his eyes back into his cards. Little did he know about the death glares Dani sent at everyone who dared attacking her friend. She took her assigned role very seriously.

She didn't understand this game. None of their actions made sense to her. They were always so cold and distant, obviously faking kindness. She didn't see why.

"I call." Malcolm yet again said with a firm voice. That one man with the sharp chin and the scar covering his right cheek eyed Malcolm like prey. Dani felt oddly cornered. Defenseless. Although _she_ was the one with a gun. Well, who knew who else wielded a gun in here. As a cop, she definitely wasn’t one of the popular.

"Raise." The scarred man purred with a deep and rough voice. He laid down more chips. "Five Million."

Dani tried her best not to gasp at the money that was offered back and forth. An unimaginable amount of money played carelessly in a gamble. Malcolm leaned back in his seat and smirked sardonically.

"I call."

The other three players who already jumped off the deal observed the two interested.

"I think the newcomer is bluffing." The man with the white beard huffed to his neighbor, a Chinese man who jumped off last of the three. Malcolm peeped amused at him.

"Of course you weren't brave enough to check that on your own." The player glared dangerously at the profiler. Only one, two seconds before the professional façade was back on.

Ridiculous. All these liars. Dani hated every second she spent here. The healthy respect she carried for these mysterious men were straining her mind. It took all concentration not to show how jumpy and uncomfortable she really was. The man with the scar looked down on Malcolm with a dangerous glint in his grey eyes. How was she supposed to relax under these circumstances?

"Raise. 8 Million." He pushed a new stock of chips towards the middle of the table. Malcolm didn't lose his smile. He glimpsed at his two cards for a split-second. Dani saw them, too, but she didn't recognize what was so special about them.

"Raise." He said instead, everybody at the table leaning interested over the table. "12 Million." He purred with a hungry look at the other man's chips. Dani saw how the man paled and froze, gripping his cards tighter than needed. Malcolm pushed his bit into the middle. He had yet enough to play, not much, but enough. The scarred man would be forced to go full in.

Malcolm gazed at him expectantly. So did the rest. What they asked of him was unthinkable. Losing 12 Million wasn't an easy choice to make. Although he had also the chance to win. If he was willing to risk it was the real question. The old man advised him to go for it. The player said nothing. He hadn't all night long. The majority of them were quiet, still delivering a certain impression of danger and respect. He searched for clues in Malcolm's eyes, but ended up dodging the icy glare that seemed to scan him to his very bone.

He laid his cards to the dealer. Malcolm scared them off the deal, but the price was more than enough. He gained more than the 8 Million, given the other three players had jumped off as well at one point. The dealer declared Malcolm the winner of this round.

"Congratulations. It's always an advantage to have the better cards." The Chinese man ignored the old man bothering him constantly and turned to the profiler who was currently ordering his gain. Malcolm snorted at him quietly.

"The cards aren't everything." He objected. He wasn’t obligated to show his cards to them. Yet he took the two cards and threw them into the middle of the table for everyone to see.

The scarred man looked up at Malcolm, unspeakable fury in his eyes. "Nothing?!" He snarled and jumped off his seat, slamming his open palms on the table. Bright didn't even flinch one bit, Dani's hand jerked to her gun on her thigh.

The dealer stood up in silence and merely looked at the aggressive player. The scarred man huffed. He swallowed and sat back down. The only noise on the table was the dealer shuffling his cards. Malcolm ordered his win and ignored the death glares with amusement. The Chinese man observed him interested, one corner of his mouth slightly in the air.

"You shouldn't draw your gun in such a place." Dani was startled by the female stranger next to her. She had appeared out of nowhere. Her hand shot back up to support her other hand with holding the cocktail.

"Excuse me?" She hummed politely at the elder woman. She had curly dark honey-brown hair under her flower accessory. Her dark purple dress went to the bottom, but she had no shame to reveal some legs, covered in black lace stockings. Her curvy waist was embroidered with gold, her hands holding the long smoking cigar hidden in pitch black gloves.

"Yours is the youngster?" She asked with a mysterious glint in her dark blue eyes, nothing like Dani had seen within the man before.

"And who are you?" Dani lost interest in the game and the new round that started. She glanced at the stranger.

"You can call me Katherine if you want to capture my very presence in one name." She responded with a sardonic chuckle.

She breathed into the smoke and sighed. "Mine's the old foul mouth." She spoke with decent disgust in her words. Dani looked at the rather louder man betting in a lot of money. It was the white-bearded man who despised Malcolm the moment he showed up. "He's dumb. But yours is really one of a kind." The woman calling herself Katherine purred, her eyes glued to Malcolm's back.

"What are you talking about?" Dani was getting frustrated, talking like she was some god and _possessed_ men? Unfortunately, the woman decided herself how this conversation was going to happen, and it was definitely not cooperating with Dani's version.

"He's on another league than the other gentlemen. He can see what they hide from everyone else. Do you play Poker, darling?" She smiled kindly at Dani, but somehow she felt rather threatened. She held her ground and shook her head. She was about to add a no, but when her lips parted only Katherine’s voice echoed.

"Poker is a game of wits. Cards carry a relevant role. You don't need good cards. You need _better_ cards. Better than anyone else's." She explained, her voice firm but sneaky and smoky at the same time. "Though cards are not everything. Sometimes you have playable cards. And sometimes you have crap. Nothing as we call it." She chuckled at Malcolm who just made his call. "Only the best players know how to win Millions with nothing."

Dani stepped closer to Malcolm and interrupted Katherine's possibility to gawk at her friend. "You seem to know this game very well. Why aren't you at the table?" Dani questioned confidently, her voice steady and challenging. Katherine looked delighted by Dani's change of mood. She smiled, her white teeth dazzling with the light above them.

"I am a woman. I don't scoop down this low to entertain myself with silly games." She laughed, it sounded fake. "I only get myself involved in the real games." Dani scowled. "You mean Russian Roulette?" Katherine fell into a deeper fit of laughter. She calmed down and looked at Dani through narrowed slits.

"No Darling. I play with lives."

Dani almost dropped her glass. She swallowed hard, blinked away the upcoming memories. "Y-you mean like..." She stammered, not finishing her sentence. Katherine waved at her dismissively. "Hush, you’re dark!" She snickered. She grabbed a glass from a bypassing waiter and took an elegant sip. Yet half of the strong liquid vanished. "I meant men. Those primitive creatures. Push the right buttons and they do what you want." Dani squinted at Malcolm before focusing back on the mysterious woman.

"We women are _always_ above men. Never forget to show that you are in control." She drowned the burning liquid after her own advice. From the corner of her eyes, Dani noticed the commotion, the cheers of a freshly ended round. Though she couldn't tear her gaze away from the woman. Her eyes were glued to the two dark holes.

"Never."

The threatening words echoed in her head. She blinked, her throat sore she watched the woman dumbfounded. The mysterious woman smiled pitifully at her and turned around swiftly. She stalked away confidently. She stroked the old man's shoulder with her hip. "Vamanos." She demanded with a strict voice. The white-bearded man immediately abandoned his seat, packed his money, and rushed after the woman.

Dani blinked perplexed, unsure if this weird encounter really happened in the first place.

It did happen. All of a sudden this place hadn't enough air left for her. She touched Malcolm's shoulder, her hands were shaking.

Malcolm turned his head around, concern was written all over his face. "Shall we go?" He asked. Dani wasn't sure if she said anything. Malcolm packed his things anyway. "Let's go." He whispered kindly and dug up a path for them in the crowd.

The Chinese man stood up and blocked Malcolm's path. Dani failed to hear him, all she heard was Malcolm's warm voice. "I'm not interested. Good night, Sir."

He led them out successfully. Dani took deep breaths of the cold air. Malcolm stood awkwardly beside her, fidgeting in his stand. She observed him, feeling nothing but guilty.

"I'm sorry, you can go in and continue if you want-" She offered, but Malcolm shook his head. "No, no. It's alright." He sighed. After that silence took over again. It was uncomfortable. Her sad eyes searched for a free cab.

"Maybe I should go home." She decided disappointed. Her head snapped to Malcolm when his hands traveled in a frustrated manner through his hair. "Gosh, I'm so sorry." He blurted out. Dani frowned at him. Malcolm's face looked pained.

"This evening. It was a complete bust." He confessed, disappointed in himself. Dani was never really good at defusing a bomb. She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, yeah..." She stammered clueless. Malcolm shrunk more into himself.

"I'm so sorry. I really wanted to..." He trailed off, his gaze leading into nothing. Dani's interest was spiked. She leaned closer to Malcolm.

"Wanted to what?" She repeated, her face very near to his own. Malcolm glanced ashamed to the side.

"I wanted to offer you a good night. A night worth remembering. I kind of owe it to you." He confessed. Dani could coo in awe at the two first sentences, but the last one eventually carried more importance to get mentioned.

"What do you mean by _'owe'_ it to me?" She asked offended, disagreeing with the concept. Malcolm swayed to the sides, trying to avoid the outcome desperately. He didn't win over Dani. "Tell me why." She demanded fiercely, the picture of the strange woman before her eyes.

Malcolm reached his breaking point. "Because I let you down, okay!" He snapped, gesturing wildly.

Dani stepped back with a frown, as if Bright just lost his mind. "You were frightened, I never saw you this scared in my life. You really needed someone that night. And I just passed out on you." He sighed in resignation and shrugged powerlessly.

Dani blinked perplexedly. Then she was furious. Very furious. "What? How is that possible to be _this_ dumb, but anywhere else to be such a smartass!" She ranted angrily. She was so done with him. "Seriously Bright. He cracked your stupid skull with the back of his gun. Maybe you don't remember very well, but I still remember the puddle of blood your head was laying in." She blurted out aggressively, not giving Malcolm any chance to meddle in.

She was walking forth and back, only now she came to an end. She stood still and pinged the bridge of her nose, vaguely shaking her head. "Why take the blame, Bright?" She muttered. It wasn't rhetorical, she really meant it. Yet she knew the answer herself. She felt it. Because of the things she was forced to do that night. The things she did to Malcolm.

"It's the helplessness I guess. The feeling that you couldn't help it, because you had no real choices. Right?" He asked sadly and looked at her intently. Dani huffed at him. Of course he knew. Bright maybe didn't know what happened that night, but he could always see through everyone. She was no exception.

"I never told you what happened for a reason." She muttered defensively. Dani turned away from him and crossed her arms before her chest tightly.

"I know. And I respect that." Malcolm let out a heavy breath. He scratched his neck and looked away from Dani. "It's just, not knowing for sure hits even harder into the gut than I imagined."

Dani cringed at his remark. She knew he didn't mean to hurt her. Or make her feel guilty. All he tried was to be honest with his friend. What the truth made with her was her own fault.

Malcolm sighed when she didn't answer. "I'll get us a cab." He spoke with a newfound distance.

Dani snatched his arm before he could raise it. "Let's take a walk." She proposed instead. Malcolm looked pained at her, unsure if he was forcing her to do something she clearly didn't want. But he wasn't. Dani was the one in control. She decided whether she revealed that information or not. And she owed him the truth she figured. He deserved it. Even if it meant traveling back to that cold and lonely night.

The moment where Malcolm went limp in her arms and dragged her to the wet ground. When he got kicked away from her, only to reveal the horrible monster that escaped her nightmares. How he plunged down to her with his knife positioned. Her crying echoing through the empty city, as she thought he stabbed her shoulder, but merely cut it in truth. She couldn't forget the maniac grin that eyed her hungrily while his arm lunged and lunged, on every new part of her body new pain flaring up. Every new cut could be deeper, deadlier. Every new stab could reach her heart. Every second could be her last.

She closed her eyes, shut down the scary face. Shut down the horror scene. She screamed, barely feeling the pain anymore due to the adrenaline that paralyzed her entire body. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Her mind was blank. Nothing was registered but a new cut on her stomach, on her arm, cheek, throat. The cuts rained down on her.

Only a pained groan granted her passage back into the real world. She tore her eyes wide open, finding a Malcolm who struggled to get up. He swayed, like a newborn foal trying to stand up. The pressure disappeared, the weight lifted. Dani realized too late.

"Bright NO!" She screamed from the top of her lungs. Before her friend could react he had hands on his throat. He froze, unfocused eyes torn wide open. With such brutal force the killer smashed Malcolm's head against the wall, she could hear the sickening crunch from her position. The profiler sunk dead to the ground. Dani jumped onto the killer in mindless fury. He absorbed a few mad punches before he managed to throw her off and pin her to the ground.

"That was fun, wasn't it, detective?" His sweet sugar-coated voice echoed in her thoughts. He grinned excitedly at her. "Here. So you won't forget."

The immediate pain in her thigh was unbearable. The bloodcurdling scream broke out of her body as she had never witnessed before. The pain burned her leg down to the bone, the dull smoke laying itself over her mind like a blanket, sending her to merciful darkness.

Her whole body was shivering when she opened her eyes to the world. She was alone. In peace. A white snowflake landed on her temple, melting instantly. It sent an odd salvation sense through her body. She breathed in satisfied and closed her eyes, wishing to drown back in the worriless illusion of a world.

It didn't grant her passage anymore. Her mind was wide awake. Her leg was throbbing and her limbs trembling forcefully.

She pushed her upper body up, leaning on her arms. Her whole body was covered in a dull pain, only did she barely notice it with the horror at her leg. She touched the cold clothing of her pants, leaking a surprisingly hot liquid. The killer took the knife. He left her to bleed out.

The killer! Now that everything came back to her, she was reminded of their profiler.

She searched panicked for him. He was still here, lying motionless in his own blood.

She crawled to him, every movement paining her. A white layer covered Malcolm's coat. She brushed the snow away and carefully checked for his head, the back of his skull unnatural squishy. She remembered the sickening crunch combined with the picture of Bright's head getting banged against the wall. His head was already hurt, she thought pitifully.

Logically she concluded to call an ambulance. She searched for her mobile in her coat, but it was gone. Her eyes scanned the dirty road. She found it. She lost it when the killer attacked Bright and then plunged down to her. It was broken. It had left a clear mark where the knife had dug into. So that was minus one option.

She swayed, her head beginning to feel dizzy and clouding her vision. She should stop the blood loss. She released her throat from her scarf and tied it tightly around her leg. She didn't hurry. The next step awaiting her scared her. She would need to search for help, or even retrace her steps back to the precinct. The way would be arduous, no kidding, but it forced her to do something much worse.

She tied a knot and controlled her makeshift bandage. She nodded and looked at Bright. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and tried to wake him up. "Hey Bright, it's me, Dani. Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" She whispered carefully, her eyeballs wetting up. She sniffed quietly. "Please Malcolm, you need to wake up. Can you do that for me? Malcolm? Please..." She embraced his head, silently crying into his neck.

Bright stayed unresponsive. He had a pulse, how long would it stay that way? Of all the things the killer did, this was the worst to Dani. She wanted to kick the feeling away, but she had no other choice. She couldn't help herself. She couldn't help Malcolm without leaving him behind. If she would stay both would die, either bleeding out or freezing to death. So she really was forced to abandon Malcolm and search for help. She could pass out on the way and be found while Malcolm died. She could be too slow, and Malcolm would die. She could die and he would, too, but separated.

The risk would be on both sides. Dani was a fighter, that she always told herself. She ran away once. Could she now be the person she desired to be? All she wanted was for Malcolm to be safe. If this was the second round, he shouldn't even be hurt. He should be fine, at home like Gil or JT. This was all her fault. And now she would dig in deeper.

She stood up, leaning at the wall for support. That way she ground herself out of the lonely alleyway. She looked back, barely seeing Malcolm in the dark anymore. But he was still there. And she would get help.

Arm in arm they walked down the street in the present time. Malcolm understood the resistance Dani had opening up to him. He knew that feeling all too well. He spent most time of his life getting crushed by it and still was. He couldn't even guarantee Dani to get over it someday, his experience on that part was non-existent. He was the worst advisor if you tried to defeat a traumatic experience. He would try his best though to help her. Dani shouldn't feel this way. He wished no one to live like him.

"Thank you." He muttered earnestly. Dani frowned at him. "You're not mad at me?" She asked with uncertainty wavering in her voice. "For saving my life?" Malcolm made big eyes and couldn't help himself to drag it into the ridiculous. "Maybe a little? But I forgive you." He realized too late that Dani wasn't used to his suicide jokes, but she took it lightly and laughed over it.

She exhaled heavily. "But no, seriously Bright. I abandoned you to save my own butt and you forgive me?" She sounded mad. Was she mad at him for him not being mad at her? Malcolm pushed the complicated thought away and went to defuse the bomb.

"I am in no position of forgiving someone. You did what everyone would do. And given I'm still here, you didn't abandon me, you _saved_ me. That's more than I could've ever done. I was literally zero help to you."

Dani looked at him in disbelief. "You know that's not true. I was glad you were there to catch me." She said with an earnest smile. Malcolm chuckled at that. "Doesn't that make me the legal winner of the game?" For that remark he earned a punch on his shoulder. "Shut up." She laughed hoarsely. A few feet they continued in silence. Where they had walked to, almost no one was walking. No cars and barely streetlight reached the scene. It was strangely idyllic to see New York vast asleep.

They warmed each other with the proximity of their bodies. "So can we agree this is all the Game Master's fault and we were just trying our best?" Malcolm proposed out of the blue. Dani considered his words closely.

"Only if that counts for both of us." She claimed. Malcolm played an offended look at her. "That's guaranteed." He exclaimed. Dani raised one eyebrow. "I promise," Malcolm added, with an honest impression. She nodded and winked at him. "Deal?" Malcolm laughed, nevertheless they shook hands firmly.

Somewhere in the corner of his eyes, Malcolm spotted something. He didn't let it slip his mind. He turned to face Dani, who delivered signs to Malcolm she was freezing. Any second and she would suggest going home.

"The thing is, I don't really want to go home yet." He said, startling Dani.

"I haven't even said anything yet." She blurted innocently. Malcolm rolled his eyes mildly. "Yeah, but you were about to." He defended himself. Dani narrowed her eyes into thin slits. "Advice for the future, Bright? Wait for your friend to speak up before voicing your answer."

Malcolm glanced to the side embarrassed. She did have a point. "Fine." He signed for defeat. "But I was right?" Dani looked at him in disbelief, shaking her head.

"Yeah, of course you were." She admitted honestly. "But why don't you want to go back to your house? It'd be warmer." She meant. Malcolm pulled his coat away to look at his watch.

"First of all, it isn't even that late yet." He showed her the time, his arm wrestling into a weird position. "Second... I don't feel ready yet." He admitted embarrassed. Dani raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"For what exactly?"

Malcolm's shoulders slumped down. He sighed. "When I'm with you I forget all my normal problems. I can ignore them and just appreciate the now and then, which I haven't done often. So if we part, that'll be over." He confessed.

Dani smiled kindly at him and stroke his shoulders. "You do realize we have to part at some point?" Her words came soft and careful. Malcolm breathed out heavily. "That's undebatable. It'd just be great to delay that for as far as possible." He grinned lopsidedly at the end.

Dani huffed in amusement. "Alright. I don't want to go home either." She admitted weakly. "But I’ll tell you, I'm really cold and you better figure out what we could do." She pointed at him to make clear that it was his responsibility to keep her warm and entertained or else she is gone.

Malcolm shrugged easily. "No worries, already found something." He grinned cheekily and led her to the other side of the road. Dani rolled her eyes. "You're always so prepared, aren't you." By now Dani noticed the wooden sign for the small bar, too. "Nah, I'm just really lucky when it comes to improvising." Bright bragged, immediately getting slapped by karma when his left foot met with a steep puddle.

"That's probably the only luck you have." Dani snickered at his misfortune. Malcolm shook his foot clumsily. "I also have bad luck, doesn't that count as luck, too?" Dani laughed at the squishing sound his left shoe made from now on. "You should take everything you can get." Dani countered back and showed with two fingers how little that was.

Malcolm opened the door and was greeted with hot stuffy air and noisy laughter that beat the little bell at the door. He peaked carefully inside, followed by Dani. The atmosphere was a different one from the casino just earlier. It was so carefree and cheery. Mostly men were present, drinking beer, playing cards, and laughing. Women were a little bit underrepresented. Which didn't mean that Bright fit better in than Dani. Most of the men were elder, coming here after work to meet with their folks and avoid their wives. "That's new." Dani deadpanned uncomfortably. Malcolm shrugged and proposed to mind their own business, drink something at the bar and simply talk.

His plans were foiled before he even managed to reach the bar. "Newcomers!" The bartender called into the room. Every man cheered and bumped their glasses. Dani and Malcolm shared confused glances. They continued the walk to the bar after everyone else went back to ignoring them.

"Hello, young lovebirds! What can I get you?" The barkeeper asked excitedly while polishing an empty glass. A muscly bald man with a few teeth missing. Yet he didn't have such an intimidating impression.

"Ah, we're not-"

"Just one beer," Malcolm answered tiredly. He motioned for Dani to decide.

"A shandy." She huffed and sat beside Malcolm with a low grumble.

"So tell me everything. What brought you two here?" The barkeeper glanced happily between the two friends while filling up a beer. Dani pointed confused at themselves, unsure if he was really addressing them.

"We're just here by coincidence," Malcolm responded for the two of them. His beer shot towards him faster than he could react. Dani caught the glass with her right, and shortly after that her own bottle with her left.

"Oh no, nonono. No one arrives here by coincidence. There is always a reason behind it." The barkeeper lectured with his index finger to the air.

"Not for us I guess." Dani deadpanned and opened her bottle. "There isn't a reason behind everything." Malcolm added and accepted his beer, already opened thanks to Dani. The barkeeper ignored them happily.

"Don't worry, even the blind will see one day." He exclaimed and turned around to make the next beer. Malcolm cringed at the anatomic mistakes his statement contained. "They really won't." He remarked quietly and stared into his beer.

He shared one glance with Dani, agreeing that this place was definitely weird. He took a sip from his beer and widened his eyes.

"Wow, this one's really good." He realized surprised.

"It always is, and yet people are surprised." The barkeeper answered all of a sudden and jumped back to them. "I'm Jeff, by the way." He held out his hand towards Malcolm.

Malcolm eyed it irritated but couldn't keep his distance when the man was smiling at them, innocent like a puppy.

"Malcolm." He accepted the hand and it was immediately squashed painfully. Dani observed and didn't make the mistake to accept it. "Dani." She waved at him instead of the handshake. Jeff was alright with it.

"Oh, like in Danielle? Or Daniela? Or-"

"Dani is just fine." She interrupted him irritated.

"It's nice to meet you. We rarely have any new guests." He told them, leaning on his hands. Malcolm nodded slowly, not sure what to respond. "Oh, okay. That's... bad, I guess?"

Jeff spread his arms spontaneously. "Not at all. It's wonderful! I get to meet my people every evening. We have become like a family." He cheered.

"That's wonderful," Dani commented with an earnest smile. Jeff smiled calmly at them. "Yes, it really is. Please feel at home." He answered warmly and left the two alone for now.

Dani and Malcolm exchanged looks. "That was quite the interesting encounter." Malcolm struggled to find the right words. Dani laughed in agreement. "He spoke in riddles, did you notice?"  
"They didn't even make sense!" Malcolm and Dani laughed, shifting closer to each other.

"Well, tell me, Mr. Bright." Dani looked at him with a challenging glint in her eyes. "What did you gain from playing in the casino?" She asked. Bright grinned cheekily.

"If you mean money, then a lot of that. So this round's totally on me, no objections." He answered proudly. Dani punched his shoulder.

"Not the money. Tell me about your profile. Got anything new after _understanding his world_." Dani repeated his words from this morning for mockery. Her eyebrows jumped up and down. Malcolm blew raspberries and turned his head away with a roll of his eyes. "I never said that." He protested. "At least something like that." Dani insisted. Malcolm shrugged and hid his face in his beer. "Maybe."

"So it really was a complete bust." Dani summed up, laughing tiredly at the end of her sentence. "Hmph. Maybe." Bright spoke into his beer and looked with big eyes away from Dani while drinking. "Well-" Dani leaned on her hand, elbow on the wooden table. "-I knew from the very start that your Poker would be useless."

"Did you say Poker?"

Jeff popped up from the side, Malcolm choking on his drink. Dani's hand felt to the place where her heart was. "Geez." She gasped startled. The barkeeper didn't mind them at all. He continued to talk about, apparently his favorite game.

"Poker is really fun, have you ever played it?" He asked curiously. Somehow they couldn't be mad at him, no matter how often he eavesdropped or meddled into their conversations uninvited. "He's actually an expert." Dani pointed at Malcolm who widened his eyes caught.

"Oh is that so?" An unfamiliar voice from behind reached to them. They turned around to see a table of five men playing the very game they were talking about.

"No title without proof." The same man pointed at Malcolm with a challenging grin, revealing all of his yellow teeth.

Malcolm shifted nervously on his seat. He didn't want to accept the offer at first. "What is it? Why so humble?" Another man bellowed. Jeff nudged him. "Go on kids, have some fun while you're at it. Playing at the Jeffrey's is a lifetime experience." He smirked. Malcolm nodded, his eyes slowly flickering reproachful to Dani for getting him into this mess.

"Ah, come on boys, he's probably not that good." A different man called and dragged the rest back to the current party. Malcolm raised one eyebrow. He fell for the lure.

"Oh, it's just that I don't play with amateurs."

With big eyes, every single one of them pounded their cards on the table. Jeff stared at Malcolm in excited shock, mouth opened. Malcolm grinned. Who took the bait now? If they would invite him to a game it would last less than ten minutes.

"How dare you?" The current dealer jumped up and threw down his cards on the table. His pout was only playful, not to miss. "You-" He pointed at Malcolm. "-are going to play with us now." He decided and began to pick up all the chips. "Come on Larry, I was about to win." Another man protested disappointed. "Nobody cares." His neighbor chortled. He pounded his fist into his open palm. "I want to destroy him!" He laughed maliciously at Malcolm.

Dani placed one hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I brought you into this mess." She apologized. Malcolm shrugged. "That'll be a piece of cake."

He jumped down from the highchair, gracefully walking towards the Poker table. "Go get 'em kid!" Jeff cheered, raising both his arms in the air with a lonely "Woo!"

Malcolm sat down at the table, confidently looking down at the small number of chips. "You better not be wailing when I make you eat your words." His neighbor threatened. It just had the be the aggressive one.

Malcolm nodded unimpressed. "Got it." The man called Larry eyed him suspiciously, receiving slight signs that he may have really made a mistake.

"Shall we begin?" Malcolm asked into the round. His newfound arch-enemy grinned devilish. "That you can bet on."

Malcolm threw a glance onto his watch. "And that are 7 minutes and 56 seconds." He concluded. He looked back into the round, everyone staring at him with wide-opened eyes. Not only the five men. Everyone in this bar watched them. How one single person won against five men in under ten minutes.

"Amazing." Dani gasped speechless next to Jeff who watched the scene with an open mouth, his polishing process stopped in the middle. Malcolm played with his stack of 100 chips, which he had plenty of. "So who's up for another round-"

"Hell nah!" Biff, his former arch-enemy, blurted panicked. Malcolm laughed in amusement, holding up his hands in defense. "Alright, alright."

He turned around in his chair. "Hey Dani, do you want to play?" He called over. Mentioned person widened her eyes and pointed a finger at herself. "Me? I never played Poker." She blurted out frantically. Malcolm shrugged regardless. "I'll teach you." He offered, which could also be translated as ' _But me no buts_.' He smiled like an angel and offered her his chair. "Fly little bird-" Jeff pushed her literally off from her chair. "-It's never too late to befriend with Poker." Dani groaned in defeat and trudged to the offered seat. "Fine."

The rules weren't that complicated after Malcolm explained them to her with the other men butting in. She didn't like to risk her chips, but that was sadly part of the game. The only tricky part was to remember all the card formation and detect those with her own cards. Luckily she had a private joker that assisted her without a firm limit.

"You have a natural poker face." Her opposite adversary mentioned during one round. Dani failed to understand at first. "It's because you always look like you don't give a damn about every shitty thing happening to you." He added with a toothy grin. Malcolm burst out into laughing behind her. His hand shot up to his mouth and he peeped shocked at her, worried he wasn't supposed to laugh at this one. Dani fell into a fit of laughter by the look of his face. The other men joined in.

Who would've expected that Poker could be so much fun? It had just the right amount of tension, but in general, it was more of a game for fun, or as she would normally call it, waste your time. Wasting it like that was alright. They enjoyed the family atmosphere that rubbed off strongly on them.

"29 minutes and 3 seconds." He whispered into her ear while the others were recovering from a joke. Dani raised one eyebrow. Malcolm smiled warmly. "That's the amount of time it took you to loosen up.” He explained. Dani laughed, making a bit place for him on the chair. Both managed to put down one thigh.

Jeff smiled warmly at them from the back of the counter. Every guest who gets lost in his bar arrives for a reason. The two never were an exception. It always has been like this and it will never stop being this way. That's what made Jeffrey's so special. That's what brought the magic into this place. He chuckled, seeing how Biff messed with Malcolm's hair and both started to play wrestle on their seats, nearly knocking over Carl's fastidious ordered stack of chips.

"Raise!" Dani exclaimed excitedly after looking at her cards.

"Ooh, someone has good cards." Jim used his two cards as a fan and covered half of his face. After that, he threw the cards back to the current dealer. "Mine are bullshit." He groaned and leaned back, settling to watch this round.

Malcolm peaked up from under the table, given he almost laid sprawled on Biff's lap during their wrestling. "You know you can also win with crappy cards." He mentioned matter of factly. The man glanced at him in disbelief. "Sure. That is a lie." He laughed roughly. Malcolm shrugged in apathy. He didn't need to prove them, but Dani knew very well this was a truth.

He straightened himself to take a look at Dani's supposedly good cards. His muscles tensed up, his eyes glued to the card. He snatched it away, regardless of what Dani would say. He needed to take a closer look. "Hey!" She protested. Though after noticing his strange behavior, she too began to search for the disturbance herself.

Malcolm showed the card to the group. "This card." He spoke up with deadly severity. The good mood shattered instantly. "What? Never saw a joker before?" Larry asked to lighten up the mood. In vain.

"It's a customized card." Bright added further, but the group didn't answer after that anymore. Dani swallowed hard. It was the same card they had found in Ines' bag. A joker with the Game Master's face on it. The same nose, the same eyes, the mocking tongue, the same hat, clothing, drawings at the back. It was an identical card! Only much older, more damaged over the years. It carried a way longer history than the cards laying in their evidence rooms. This one was made years ago.

"Malcolm is such a Poker fanatic, he always wanted the best deal to customize his own cards." Dani threw in to kill some suspension. Larry threw down his cards.

"Cut it out. You're cops, we can smell them from miles away." He hissed. The other men looked disappointed into the round. The fun was dead.

"What a killjoy." Jeff commented from the back of his bar table. These two were here for a reason. They just found it.

Malcolm laid the Joker into the middle of the table. "This card was done by hand. Who made it?"

The fellows were muted, dodging his eyes. Dani sighed. She didn't want to do this. These men were super fun and kind. But this was her job, and she wouldn't tolerate anyone holding back relevant information.

"You should consider answering him." She advised while pulling out her badge from the thigh that was not injured. She didn't hide the gun she carried with her. "It's about a very dangerous murder case." She added to make them understand how big the situation really was.

"The artist is a young boy," Larry spoke up eventually. " _Was_." Jim pointed out. Larry nodded. "We were meeting up as usual after work, we were only three by that time. Me, Jim and Carl." Larry continued. "He was a scrawny puny little wimp, a nothing. He begged for work. Jeff advised him to call the youth welfare service. The little shit said this was none of his business." He laughed back in memories. It didn't last long.

"Did he find work here?" Dani asked with crossed arms.

Carl huffed. "Well, yeah. Jeff listened to him, after his many many visits. One day he gave up and let him in. He used to work as a waiter. Back then this bar was more popular than nowadays."

Dani's mouth fell open. "You let a kid work in this bar instead of calling for external help?" Dani gasped with disbelief and anger. Malcolm didn't miss the way Larry’s eyes shifted to Jeff and back. They were covering up for him. Protecting him. Why?

"He received good payment and became family to this business. Soon he helped where he could. He was a very lively child. A good kid."

Malcolm touched the card carefully.

"When did he start to paint?" He asked casually. Larry gazed at the card, lost in memories for a few seconds. "With 15 years. He sold hand-painted playing cards to our customers. To earn some money."

"Why?" Dani asked simply. "Was he an orphan or were his parents jobless junkies?"

Larry shrugged in ignorance. "I really don't know that much about him, he was very distant and mysterious." He lied. Malcolm made a mental note to confirm the bad parents theory. Moving on.

"Did he play Poker?"

"No," Biff replied without wasting a breath. Larry shot him a glance. Biff looked straight at Malcolm. Especially those two former enemies had gotten very close over time.

"He fought Poker."

Dani looked at Malcolm for a translation. Malcolm sent the look over to Biff. "He played Poker to survive. He never experienced the fun the others had. All he wanted to do was to perfect his skills and be unstoppable. Unbeatable." As soon as they heard these words they knew that was their guy. Now one question lasted.

"We need his identity. His real name." Dani revealed to the group. They hesitated to answer. "He's in trouble?" Larry asked concerned. Malcolm felt bad to be the one breaking it to them. To tell the truth about their little kid.

"He's a potential serial killer, Larry. He is the one responsible for the deaths. He won't stop if we don't stop him." Malcolm confessed. His imagination did not lie, there were without doubt tears in the man's eyes. He shielded them with his open palm and nodded in understanding. "I'm very sorry." Malcolm couldn't help but add. Bringing the bad news could sometimes be very interesting, whereas sometimes truly heartbreaking. This was the latter.

"What is his name?" Dani repeated impatiently.

"Bennett."

Malcolm and Dani turned around at the same time to face Jeff, yet again polishing. His eyes revealed his horror and he was surprisingly pale. Slowly he laid down the beer glass with the towel still inside.

Malcolm stood up and walked to Jeff. "He was like your son, wasn't he?" One tear slipped down Jeff's cheek. They scarcely spent one night here, yet it was already disturbing to see this cheerful soul so sad. The barkeeper wiped the tear away and took a deep breath.

"Bennett was always hard-working. He knew his goals and never stopped one second to achieve them. He wanted to build up the greatest company in the whole of New York."

Malcolm laid one hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. Jeff shook his head frantically.

"I knew it. I knew something was not right with that kid. But who am I to judge, I wasn't the easiest teen myself. So I kept my promise not to call him out on the system. I supported him with what he was doing." The dam broke and the tears streamed down freely. "I should've called the welfare, shouldn't I? People could be still alive if I had just done the right thing, I'm so sorry!"

All of a sudden he hugged Malcolm over the counter. The profiler looked like a shocked deer in this particular scene, at a loss for words of what to do. How to handle a crying human in his arm. This was just plain weird.

The name Bennett circling in his brain stopped still for a second. It had been wandering on a lucky wheel, for example, stopping at a certain name. And suddenly it made sense.

"Please don't hurt my kid. He doesn't know better." Jeff whispered into his ear. He released him from the bear hug and wiped away his tears.

"Don't worry Jeff. We will catch him, and he will get a fair process. I promise." Finally, Jeff smiled again, shy signs of sadness in his eyes. He grabbed Malcolm by his shoulders.

"Look at you. Aren't you a good kid? Rightening old Jeffrey's wrongs." He sniffed, a new tear making its way down his chubby cheek. Malcolm smiled reassuringly at him.

"I'll come back if this is over." Bright promised. He nodded at Dani to affirm they would leave. Their new-made friends waved them goodbyes. Jeff cupped his palms over his mouths, mimicking a megaphone.

"Remember: There is always a higher reason guiding you to the one and only Jeffrey's." He called over. Malcolm smiled warmly at him before leaving. The bell sang in the uncharacteristic silence. Jeff sighed. "That's what makes the magic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I told you this chapter is massive  
> (So if you found any mistakes, I'm sorry. I read this chapter thousands of time, and I'm done!)  
> I hope you enjoyed it! :)


	14. Chapter 13

They stepped out of Jeffrey's in silence. Malcolm turned to her. "I know who the killer is." He declared excitedly.

Dani groaned. "Of course you do."

Malcolm shifted nervously on his feet. "No seriously, we should tell Gil and meet up-"

"Hold your horses." Dani interrupted him with raised hands. " _We_? No no, if Gil finds out I went against his orders..." She murmured in panicking realization.

"Well, if we present him the killer on a silver plate?" Malcolm waged his words.

Dani shook her head decidedly. "Nah. I once went against his orders and the punishment was terrible." She confessed. Malcolm shrugged in unconcern.

"I always go against his wishes and he never- wait, the last time you broke his order you took care of me because I was high?" He realized with a hurt expression. Dani widened her eyes in horror. "Yes." She croaked. Malcolm pouted. "That's just mean."

Dani rolled his eyes at him. "You wanted to throw axes with me." She mentioned. Malcolm shrugged. "Because it's fun! You should definitely try once."

Dani continued glaring at him. "You wanted to dance with me!" She threw in as if that was the most disgusting thing. Malcolm acknowledged the fact surprised, saying "I did?" Dani threw her hands up to the sky. "And then you freaked completely out on me." She pointed a finger at him.

Malcolm crossed his arms before his chest and pouted at her. "Well, _I_ remember the experience to be very pleasant." He declared.

" _You_ don't remember anything because you got knocked out!" Dani threw in, her open hand pointing to Malcolm. He shrugged ignorantly.

"So? I slept wonderfully!"

"And I slept on a counter!"

"Why are we screaming at each other?" Malcolm paused the contest to take a breath. Dani groaned frustrated. "I was about to go home." She decided and fumbled in her phone to call for an uber. Malcolm observed her offended.

"What about the killer? We have his identity!" Malcolm argued. His mouth dropped when a car pulled over. "That was fast." He admitted. Dani snorted, adding "I called that one ten minutes ago." She opened the door but turned to Malcolm one last time.

"Do you come in?" She asked. Malcolm considered it for a moment. His shoulders slumped down. "No thanks."

Dani nodded in understanding. "Then have a good night." She wished him awkwardly. Bright hid his hands in his pockets. He nodded her as a goodbye. "See you tomorrow." She vanished in the car, quickly disappearing into the night. Leaving Malcolm alone under a weak streetlight.

He looked at his unfamiliar surroundings. "Now what?" He asked no one in particular.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Heey, JT!"

"Hell nah." The man groaned on the other end.

"We just had to endure ourselves the entire day, I just thought, why not stretch that a little further?" Malcolm proposed chipper. He could hear how done JT was on the other side.

JT sighed tiredly in defeat. "Alright, what do you want?" He asked right away. Malcolm was shocked.

"What do you mean what I need? Can't I just call my bro and talk like friends do, you know?" He stammered awkwardly. Another groan escaped from JT's side. He could clearly see him facepalming right now. "You can try." JT offered. Malcolm had the urge to roll his eyes at him but apparently found out that it wasn't as easy as expected.

He squashed some snow at the side of the street, directly next to the lantern. "Erm, what are you doing so?" He stuttered meekly. JT snickered at the other end, but he spared Malcolm on that one.

"Not much. Just eating some chips, laying on my bed watching Netflix. Tally has night shift today." Malcolm nodded, kicking some snow off his show. "Aha."

His partner sighed from the other side. "And what have you been up to?"

Malcolm disliked how he said it with prejudice. As if he was doing something stupid or unofficial. Of course JT was right. Still, Malcolm hated it.

"I was actually just strolling through the city, meeting people, etc." Malcolm bragged proudly. "No way." JT gasped sarcastically at him. Malcolm wasn't that bad at being a social living being, the mockery was by now just ridiculous.

"And you know what, I just found out who the killer is." Malcolm expected a lot of reactions. Laughter wasn't one of them.

"That is by far the most realistic thing to happen in this conversation," JT confessed amused. Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "JT..." The man ignored him. "You, strolling down the street, stumbling into the killer and exchanging words, I can clearly see it-"

"JT." Malcolm interrupted him patiently. "Huh?" The other man hummed. He took a calming breath.

"JT I have the killer's identity. I'm being serious right now."

For a moment there was silence. "No joking on that, you know that," JT responded with a doubting voice. Malcolm laughed mutely into himself. "When was I ever the humorous person?"

"Fuck." JT realized shocked. "We have him." The voice on the other end of the line lightened up. "We're close," Malcolm admitted with an excited smile. He heard JT jump up from his bed.

"We need to meet up." He decided and Malcolm agreed wholeheartedly. "Did you call Gil?" JT asked at the side while rustling indicated he was dressing up for outside. Malcolm hissed out behind gritted teeth. "No, not yet." JT must be frowning on the other end, that's how Malcolm interpreted the pause. "Why would you, wait, I don't really care. Let's just meet at the precinct-"

Malcolm lifted his feet from the melted snow. "Erm, actually..." He squealed embarrassed, close from asking for a favor. JT sighed. "And now I know it." Malcolm was quiet for a good while, waiting for JT to declare his decision. JT groaned heavily in frustration.

"Fine. Where you at?"

The bright lights of JT’s car lightened up the rather dark alley at this late night’s hour. Malcolm squinted painfully, the light was too much for his eyes that had gotten used to the darkness. The yellow dots danced nearer to him until he could hear the buzzing of the engine. Like induced by magic the window rolled down, JT leaning out with a reproachful expression.

"You just had to be at the arse end of nowhere." He protested right away instead of greeting Malcolm.

Malcolm rolled his eyes, one amused snort escaping him. He walked around the car and opened the door, taking a seat. "Like seriously, where the heck are we." JT continued. Malcolm glared at him offended. "Back off, I figured out the case." He defended himself proudly. JT turned on the car smoothly, steering out of the dark alley. Malcolm looked back nostalgically at Jeffrey's. He couldn't disappoint those people.

"Then spill it," JT spoke up, meddling into the busy street. He looked past Malcolm and checked the back of his car. "Who is our crazy madman." He added, a stern concentrated expression marking his face. Malcolm leaned back in his seat.

"I called Gil to meet up in the Briefing room. Let's just do that all together. I don't want to repeat everything." Malcolm meant. JT laughed at his statement and shook his head.

"As if you don't like hearing yourself. Come on, be honest. You just like the drama." JT claimed. Malcolm shrugged with a sardonic smirk. "I wouldn't survive a day without the drama." He admitted coolly.

They didn't drive long in silence until JT decided to speak up. "Did you also call Dani?" He asked casually. He remembered Malcolm had only mentioned Gil earlier, but there was no way he'd keep Dani out of the investigation. She would kill him.

"Erm…" Malcolm widened his eyes, nervousness making itself in sweat drops visible. JT cast him a concerned glance, Malcolm dodged it, turning his head towards his window.

"I did. She didn't pick up. Must be showering. Something like that." He hushed to say rapidly. He hadn't really thought of a proper explanation yet to what happened tonight. Dani didn't want Gil to know, so JT theoretically counted, too?

JT shrugged indifferently. "Sure." He deadpanned unconvinced. It was Malcolm's funeral after all.

His phone started to buzz in his pocket. Without thinking too much about it he pulled it out to answer it. Before his thumb reached the green button, his phone disappeared magically from the top. "Hey!" JT protested surprised. He glared at Malcolm who had grabbed the phone.

"Excuse me? Phoning while driving?" Malcolm gasped playfully and eyed JT disappointed.

"Malcolm-" JT started but was quickly interrupted.

"Eyes on the road, Mister." Malcolm scolded while pointing with two fingers from his eyes to the street. "You will not risk our lives for such a ridiculous cause." JT groaned defeated and focused back on the street. Malcolm shook his head in a parental manner. "Embarrassing. And from the police even."

He tapped the green circle and lifted the little device to his ear. "Jason Thompson Tarmel." He introduced himself with a deeper voice and a wide grin. JT threw him a deadly glare, nevertheless staying muted. The voice speaking back to Malcolm sent him icy cold shivers through his body.

"Jason Thompson Tarmel? Well, that's what JT stands for. Good to know." His shaking hand tensed around his partner's mobile. His eyes were torn open, burning from the lack of blinks. His chin fell down. That, he really hadn't seen coming.

"Cat got your tongue, detective?" The killer checked on the other side with a nasty chuckle. Malcolm found no voice to answer that. He found no words. He was paralyzed. He saw his face, heard his voice. It was clearer than before. He knew that man. They had met before. Bennett and Malcolm.

JT's eyes shifted concerned to Malcolm and back to the street. "Bright, what's going on, who's there?" He pestered the profiler worried from the side. Malcolm wanted to answer, but he felt unable to. Bennett called JT for a reason. The third round was about to get started.

"May I ask how your investigation is going? You don't have a lot of clues, do you?" The Game Master laughed arrogantly. Malcolm knew he lied. Bennett was smarter than that. He knew they were onto them.

Trapped in his own thoughts Malcolm didn't notice JT pulling his car to the side of the street. He shut down the engine and snatched his phone back from Malcolm. The profiler didn't protest, only exhale the breath he didn't know he had kept. "Alright. Who's there?" JT grumbled into the phone unimpressed. "Ah!" The voice sang over delighted.

"The real Jason Thompson Tarmel I assume."

JT's eyes widened abruptly, immediate tension cramping his muscles. Years of experience barely guaranteed for him to stay professional towards the immense shock.

"What do you want?" He grumbled coolly. Malcolm heard the killer's laughter from his seat.

"I was meaning to get in touch with you, detective. You're smart, you can probably guess what's about to happen now." The man sizzled into JT's ear. The man cringed uncomfortably. Malcolm leaned to him to have a better understanding of what was going on.

"I'm not playing your dumb games." JT declared decidedly. Malcolm hissed at his partner's statement. That didn't sound promising. He would play the game if he wanted to or not. The Game Master had his ways.

"Oh? Not so smart apparently."

JT jerked furiously in his seat. Malcolm frowned concerned. "I can end this call whenever I want. You can't force me to take part in your silly games." He added further, completely ignoring Malcolm's signs to stop threatening their killer.

The man on the other end hummed peacefully. "That's true. I can't force you to play with me, that would _kill_ the fun for sure?" The man sang unimpressed. "Although I know the place you live, and where your beautiful wife works. Tally, right?" JT's strong impression shattered with the name of his wife. His face revealed utter horror. "Leave her out of this." He snarled murderously, making Bright doubt who the real killer was.

"But you're right, detective. I can't just force you to play. I'll just call my other friends. I remember vividly the fun Dani and I had that night-"

"No!" Malcolm gasped louder than expected. He clamped his hands over his mouth under his big eyes. "Don't worry, Malcolm. You can join us!" The Game Master raised his volume for Malcolm to hear.

"Stop it," JT grumbled with a low, weaker voice.

"You know what, detective? I too can end this call whenever I want-"

"-Hold on!" JT jumped in, the nervousness by now very audible. He sighed in defeat. "I'll play your stupid game." He conceded helplessly. The killer cheered innocently on the other line. "A volunteer!" He whooped and ignored JT's further protest.

The Game Master cleared his throat. "The game I want to play with you is called, oh wait, no, wait!" He interrupted himself excitedly. "Put me on speaker, then Malcolm can help you." He proposed, delighted by his own idea.

"No," JT growled with a look at his partner. Malcolm had already suffered enough in every round. He was not going to get him involved in the third one as well.

"Oh come on, he can be your Joker. It's to your own advantage." The man pouted disappointed. JT glanced again at Malcolm who observed the scene a little confused. "You won't hurt him?" He raised one eyebrow. His communicating partner chuckled sardonically.

" _I_ would never harm him. This one's for you, big fellow." He muttered maliciously by the end.

JT shivered at that and considered he could use every help he could get. Either way, they were both in the same location, it'd be more lucrative to have Malcolm informed when the game would escalate. He tapped the button and the Game Master's voice echoed loudly in the car.

"The game is known under the name: Two truths, ONE lie." He introduced excitedly. He paused for any comments, but Malcolm and JT waited patiently for the key player to go on. "You are familiar with the general rules?" The killer checked, his voice quivering with uncertainty.

"Duh-" JT rolled his eyes. "-it's basically the title. Someone, I boldly assume you, tells three stories, two of them true, the remaining one a lie." Applause greeted him.

"Correct!" The killer congratulated. JT glanced demotivated at Bright. "Doesn't that make me the winner and we're done?" He mocked, Malcolm shook his head. He leaned nearer to the micro.

"General rules aside, what cruelty do you add to that?" He asked instead.

The man whistled impressed. "Smart question, you're quite the expert in my games, no?" He sizzled sweetly. Malcolm huffed frustrated and leaned back in his seat. "The punishment is always a surprise." The Game Master revealed with a more serious voice.

JT swallowed hard. Their former experiences showed that punishments were impossible to avoid. He would just need to pray the disability he'd receive would be temporary as well, like in Malcolm's and Dani's cases.

The Game Master clapped his hands together. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Malcolm and JT shifted on their seat, readying themselves for the following. "Story number one.” The killer began.

“I never had any close friends in my childhood. I gained nothing from school for my life. I gained nothing from my parents. I had to work hard, for every little thing in my life. I wanted to become big and influential. Therefore I had to get rid of the leaks in my life, where most of my earned money flowed away for the most ridiculous reasons, alcohol, cigarettes, etc.

So one day, I killed my drunk father. With eight years old."

JT looked at Malcolm. Bright nodded at him. It matched with his theory and wasn't that far away from believable. He knew for a fact that Bennett already used to work as a little kid. As for the school, he mentioned he gained nothing from it, which is self-explanatory if he never attended it in the first place.

So far that was Malcolm's favorite game. Not only did it reveal bits of past from their serial killer, but it was also easy to see the truth. He was certain the second truth wouldn't be much harder to distinguish from the lie, which left Malcolm nervous. What was his deal?

"Made up your mind? Tell me later what you think." The killer smiled audibly. "Let's continue with story number two." He exclaimed excitedly.

"I ground myself very hard in life to achieve my goals. I looked over many corpses this way, so my business may be kinda shady from the inside. But with the influence, I also found friends. Or rather accomplices. We aren't close, but we share the same interests that aren't supported in the publicity. So we support each other, everyone with their own talents. Sometimes we are drink buddies. Sometimes we kill one. Our _friendship_ is light and breezy, but often far more complicated than in your imagination. I don't care for anyone but myself. So do they."

Malcolm sucked in the information with excitement. They vaguely knew about one accomplice, but apparently there was a group? Given the information would be right in the first place. It surely was right, Malcolm had barely any doubts. Only the last story could prove that.

JT looked at him, wondering if they should give their statement already. Malcolm shook his head. He motioned for them to wait for the last story to be told. Slight fear crept to Malcolm. What if the killer would make the lines between reality and illusion too blurry? The killer could have an accomplice, yet the story could be a lie. It could be only one guy, it could be a victim. This story didn't have to be necessarily right. He swallowed hard. Either that was the trick of the game, or something much more sinister.

"Are you ready for the last story?" The Game Master asked with something in his voice, Malcolm failed to identify. But it was scary. Very intimidating. Without caring for any affirmation of his players, the killer continued.

"Story number three is a little bit different. Stories from the past don't possess the excitement they once had. It's over, plain history with plain impact. The future is what can bring the strongest nagging feeling. That can fill us with torturing anticipation. Consider that united with the present, it truly becomes the frame a masterpiece deserves." The killer enjoyed every single word. He took a deep fulfilling breath. He sighed contently and continued. "Right now, my story is being cast at the hospital." He hummed.

"And Tally joined me."

One second they were sitting uncomfortably in the car, suddenly JT was exploding out of the car. "You bastard!" He roared into his phone, angry tears welling up in his eyes. Malcolm processed what just happened, slowly opening his door, too. He heard the killer laugh evilly from the phone.

He had JT's wife. JT was losing it.

He hesitated to leave the car, in the background JT’s furious insults towards the killer registered. What was his deal? Malcolm wondered that since the beginning. Now he feared to understand what his goal was.

Uncertainty. Doubt. Fear. Negligence.

JT was going crazy to protect his love. He would act careless, foolish. That could be one of the Game Master's most dangerous games.

JT dashed back into the car, the engine roaring up in pain. Before Malcolm could do anything he was pushed into his seat. His open door fell shut by the sudden velocity of the car. JT accelerated to a speed that was far above the validity. Malicious laughter filled every corner of the room.

Malcolm dared to look out of the window, the many colorful lights flashing past them. He placed his head back to his seat and breathed in quick and shallow, frightened. That way he didn't miss the red light before them. JT did.

He rushed determined through the intersection, barely passing a truck coming from Malcolm's side. "JT!" Malcolm screamed high-pitched. His crazy partner swayed brutally with his car to dodge another car coming from his side.

Back on their own track, Bright realized they and other innocent people were going to get hurt or even die if he wouldn't stop his partner. He was trapped in horrible fear for his wife, he cared for nothing anymore. Not even for his own life, he didn't put on his seatbelt.

Malcolm pushed himself up from his seat. "JT!" He called over to his friend. His head was pulled to the side, banging against his door after JT outran another car. Malcolm blinked, his bump on the head throbbing after the encounter with the window. A car honked in front of them. Two lights raised towards them. JT's eyes were full of anger but looked into nothing.

Malcolm jumped forward and pulled the wheel in his direction. The other car rushed past them at the last second. JT breathed heavily, back in reality. Malcolm clawed his arm.

"Stop the freaking car JT!" He demanded fiercely. Rushing through the busy New York in the night was not the safest outside activity to enjoy.

JT blinked perplexed, his eyes narrowing back into slits. "No! Tally!" He roared and was back in the game. Literally.

Malcolm groaned helplessly frustrated. What did Bennett call him? He was the joker. He stayed unaffected, saw, and thought clearly. He could pull JT out of the despair vortex. He had to!

He shook JT's shoulder frantically. "JT this is a game! Two truths one lie! He lied! He doesn't have Tally!" Malcolm screamed from the top of his lungs to beat the external noises from the street, the laughter from the killer, to reach JT.

"How can you be so sure? You don't understand!" JT snapped without taking his eyes from the street.

Malcolm grabbed his shoulder with decent pressure. "No, I don't JT! I don't understand the horrible fear clouding your mind because I'm not supposed to!" He flailed. His gaze dropped to the ground.

He did know the feeling in general when you thrive to protect your family. At all costs. Watkins crawled back into his memories.

He shook his head to rid distracting thoughts. "JT, remember our profile about the killer? The first two stories fit perfectly. The last one is a lie, Tally is safe!" He claimed, doubt settling on JT visibly.

"Now please! Stop the car!" Malcolm begged, frightened they could crash and involve innocents. And die.

"No," JT stated determined, slowly shaking his head. Malcolm opened his mouth, glaring at him in disbelief. "No!" JT repeated with more force. "I'm not ready to risk that! I need to see for myself!" JT whined, passing another cue of cars before them. "Holy..." Malcolm gasped, his face pale as he noticed the shocked drivers rushing past him. At this rate, they would only see Heaven’s door.

Laughter in the background. Always this laughter from the killer, where the heck was it coming from? JT had rushed into the car and thrown away his phone regardless of the location. Malcolm detected the familiar blue display light in the room where his feet rest. He swallowed and bowed down to pick it up, praying JT wouldn't send the car into a sudden movement.

He came back up with a slightly battered mobile in his hands. "Alright, you want proof?" Malcolm protested angrily. He ignored the Game Master who began a conversation with him. Regardless of his words Malcolm ended the call abruptly and searched for Tally's number. He dialed it and waited, praying she would answer and calm her husband. She could save lives with that, his own included.

It peeped too long, it felt like hours. When someone took the phone, Malcolm almost moaned in relief. Although it wasn't Tally who answered.

"You just hang up on me Malcolm, how rude." Bright choked on the air. He was a dead man.

"Noo!" JT cried desperately, not willing to believe it. Malcolm panicked between both men. With whom should he deal first, no, with whom _could_ he deal at all? JT seemed completely lost, gone feral. How could he get him to stop when he just worsened the situation?

"A real masterpiece, don't you think, Malcolm?" The killer sizzled proudly on the other end of the line. Bright hated to admit, but it really was a stroke of genius. JT dared the killer he shouldn't hurt Malcolm, whereas now he himself would be the one responsible if any damage would be inflicted on him. Brilliant, truly.

"As I often say, a joker is nothing worth if the player doesn't recognize its value." The Game Master spoke nonchalantly. This arrogant voice awoke memories in Bright's brain. As usual no pleasant ones, but at least necessary ones.

_Don't play his games. Play yours._

Malcolm considered the words with a cautious nod. Trusting his father never ended well. But now it could only help, even if the help would be poisoning. A deal with the devil. Malcolm wasn't just a joker. He hated to say it, but he was a player, too. And he would go against Bennett's imagination if that could give him a slight chance of saving innocent lives. And hopefully JT's and his own, too.

Malcolm put one hand on JT's shoulder. "JT, listen to me!" JT didn't look at him, but Malcolm knew his words reached him, so he continued. "I know that doesn't sound very promising... and I can't prove to you that Tally is safe," Malcolm said sorrowful, "but I _know_ that Tally is safe." He spoke as reassuringly as possible. And he meant it.

The third story was a lie. A very convincing one, but still, a blunt lie. He just couldn't prove it and they were straight storming towards one of the most crowded intersections in New York. They would crash for certain and drag hundreds of innocents into it. With that speed, it would end deadly, especially for them.

"JT. I need you to snap out of it and think clearly. Tally is safe. I can't prove it, but I _promise_ you he doesn't have her." Malcolm confessed.

JT's angered expression started to crumble, leaving a naked and honest expression. He was scared. Under his tough and brave face, there was nothing more than a frightened man. This wasn’t something to be ashamed of. It is a good thing to worry about your loved ones. 

Bright stroked his shoulder in a calming manner, his eyes nervously shifting to the intersection. They were getting closer rapidly.

"We're partners JT, you know I would never lie to you." He confessed, watching JT fall apart bit by bit. "Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice rising by small hope.

JT did.

Tears streamed carelessly his cheeks down. His arms gave up on him and abandoned the steering wheel. Malcolm grabbed it instantly and steered them away from the street onto the exceptionally empty sidewalk. He pulled out the keys to lock the wheel into its place. Slowly the engine started to die away. By their speed, it would take horribly long. Malcolm leaned over JT and guided the seatbelt over him. It clicked in place.

He looked up in time to notice the lantern they were racing to. They were both secured by their seatbelts, the speed of the car had dropped, yet not completely. They were still fast. Too fast. But there was nothing they could do.

"JT!" Malcolm screamed one last warning to prepare themselves for the crash. Malcolm saw the little glint of fear and disbelief in his glassy eyes. The lamp neared them faster than he could realize.

His vision forfeited first. After a massive bang and a white-hot pain in his whole upper body, everything went black.

Pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, I still haven't revealed the identity xD  
> I wonder, would you be relieved if I told you I will reveal it in the next chapter? Or would feel uneasy because we still haven't reached halftime?


	15. Chapter 14

Noise.

Which was first taken from him would be last given. He was blind. Lights submerged from the corner of his eyes, but they meant nothing to him. His mouth was dry and tasted metallic.

To say his whole body hurt would be an understatement. Everything ached in the hot burning flames. His limbs were sore, even the slightest movement sending hot-jabbing flares through his system. His brain received several alerts, but it was already aware of the all-embracing pain. After all, its shell was brutally attacked by a hammer, nothing compared to a usual headache.

With a groan his eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly to ignore the persistent flashlights. The noises of the street life were constantly buzzing in his ear, so much that he didn't hear it anymore. People were shouting, cars were honking, everything was a poor blur to him.

He turned his head, hissing in sharp pain. His eyes were back from their forced vacation and observed his surroundings. He was in a dark place, covered in shards of glass. The thing pressing against his chest, a firm marshmallow. What the hell had happened...?

What had he done?

A feisty vibrant tone bit through his bubble, nagging on his consciousness. He winced as he searched for the source. It needed to stop hurting him. His numb fingers fumbled through the destroyed leftovers. Maybe he even cut himself, but that must be irrelevant by now. His entire body seemed to be covered in cuts.

His eyes detected a weak blue light. He navigated his hand to that location, which proved to be harder than expected. While his palm stroked the cool surface, he began to realize where he was. Till now he had been floating in a tight uncomfortable nothing. Now he recognized the dashboard. His aching back replied with the same answer his butt and legs had found out. He was trapped in a car. More particular, in his seat. Tightly strapped to it, only his head lolling down.

His fingers felt something oval-shaped and he closed his hand around it. His first try to carry the blue light to him failed. He almost dropped it somewhere to his legs. He didn't fancy his second try, instead he observed the scene for other solutions.

Green. Green light. Green is good. Green is nice. With his last energy, he pressed onto to green circle. Then his arm went slack, dragging down the rest as well. For seconds he just breathed exhausted. He knew because it echoed extremely loud in the car.

"You're alive." A familiar voice spoke. It sounded surprised, impressed. He didn't fail to recognize the voice. It pulled him back into reality with sharp claws, making him moan in desperate frustration.

"I must say, Malcolm, I'm impressed." The voice echoed with such honesty in the room. It sounded alien to him, it normally didn't match with honesty. "That was some out-of-the-box thinking." He didn't care for his words, they meant nothing to him.

"Tally..." He croaked, his own voice sounding unfamiliar. Dry, weak, broken. Water would be great. Although the more urgent mission would be to get out of here.

The man sighed disinterested. "Tally's fine. You were right, I bluffed. I never had her, only her phone. I'll keep it by the way, it's neat."

Malcolm sighed relieved. A pressure he didn't know pressing on his lungs lifted. Now it was only the airbag squeezing him.

His head lolled to the side. JT was in the same situation as him, the only exception that he had yet to wake up. But he was alive, that was for sure. His wheezing breath disturbed the whole car.

"She doesn't matter, Malcolm. You played against the rules." The Game Master said bluntly. Malcolm shifted back to face JT's abandoned phone. The display was black by now, he missed the little blue light.

"I didn't..." He had to stop earlier than his sentence, his voice was still pretty much down. He cleared his throat and found it easier to talk back. "I was just the better player." He snickered smugly. He was extremely proud, he was just too tired and battered to show it properly.

"And that is the problem. You're better than I expected. That ruins my calculations." He deadpanned. His voice rough, cold, and heartless. Malcolm and his team, they weren't real humans to him, only toys and numbers. Player one, Player two, they weren't living beings in his brain. They were irrelevant to him. Replaceable.

That was once. Now it had changed. Malcolm heard it in the change in his voice, how it became softer, yet even sweet.

"I have to rewrite my script. And not in your favor." He spoke with a strong voice, but he could never hide the warmth in his words from someone like Malcolm. He was too good at his job. He always knew that'd be someday the end of him.

"You should stop worrying about the others," The Killer advised, "and start worrying about yourself, Malcolm." The profiler listened to the voice, wondering when help would arrive to pull them out of this stupid car.

"Irrelevant." He huffed exhausted, the smallest words an exertion to him. He already struggled really hard not to pass out again with his surroundings swaying dangerously before his very eyes.

"Oh?" The voice purred affectionately. "What a selfless hero you are." He spat out the sugar-coated mockery. Malcolm swallowed hardly before finding the strength to answer.

"You're as good as caught," Malcolm took an involuntary pause to gather some strength. He heard the sardonic 'Oh really? Is that so?' on the other man's lips, but he knew it would never reach him. Not when he continued faster.

"Your game will end, Coleman."

The silence swallowed all of his senses, deafening him, blinding him, and muting him all over again. Malcolm sucked for breath, his lungs theoretically having enough air and muscle power to work with. It failed in his brain to realize he wasn't choking.

"So you found out?" Bennett confessed, somewhat disappointed. Malcolm swallowed although there was nothing left. His mouth was dry as a desert.

"I must say, I was astounded to expect your visit so soon. I assumed to have had a failproof poker face back there. I guess you can't hide anything from a profiler like you." Mr. Coleman sighed nonchalantly into the phone. His words tasted bitter.

"That changes a lot." The killer realized. Malcolm was forced to listen since his body reached zero energy. He just hoped there was no blood loss. Even then it was embarrassing to wake up a third time in the same hospital room and look at the same annoyed nurses.

He forgot his train of thoughts immediately after the next words bounced into the inside of the car. Energy flooded back into his body with the force of a tsunami, but most of it blocked behind a calcified water faucet.

"I can't wait to explore your mind, just you and me. Enjoy some quality time together, right, Malcolm?" Coleman said, but all Malcolm saw and heard was Watkins. His old maniac grin, the dangerous glint in his eyes, staggering into his body hungrily.

_We have to stop meeting like this, Malcolm._

Malcolm shook his head to rid himself of that memory, as to avoid further ones. The urge to throw up attacked him, but that might as well come from the impulsive move of his head. He pulled himself together, fought the power that wanted to drag him back into darkness. First, he had to do what he did best. Talk. Talk with the killer.

"You don't have to do this." He croaked weakly. The killer cooed at him in awe.

"That's sweet. What makes you think I don't want to do this?" He countered back.

Malcolm breathed heavily. The current sitting position was starting to take its toll on him, and internally he begged for external help to arrive. What was taking the EMT always so long?

He pushed the unnecessary thoughts aside and returned to the matter at hand. "I know how you feel." Malcolm worked to build up an understanding between them instead.

"Because that's your job? Or maybe because you were raised by a serial killer?" The man countered back bluntly. Bright ignored him as he did with everyone else mentioning his father-son relationship.

"No one is born like this. Someone _breaks_ us." Malcolm emphasized earnestly, yet he earned a disapproving snort.

"That's like your standard catchphrase, Malcolm. To get into my head I need you to kneel in deeper. Metaphorically, of course." Coleman chuckled, but he wasn't amused. Agitated. He played the cool composed man because he was nothing else used to. He didn't know how dangerous Malcolm could be while his original plan was in shards.

Malcolm exhaled exhausted. He scrambled his strength together, surprised there was still some left. "I know you feel alone and misunderstood, but there are people-" He swallowed, not certain if he could pull through with it anymore. "-people who still believe in you. Who haven't given up on you."

Coleman laughed sardonically. "Is that your way of making friends, Malcolm?"

The profiler closed his eyes, taking in a shaking breath. He exhaled with trembling lips. He was determined. His profile was wrong. Bennett Coleman wasn’t a sadistic and heartless monster. He was once a child, too. He once had a heart and he could regain it back. All he needed to do was to push the right buttons. He didn't give him up, not yet.

"Jeff..." He gasped breathlessly. The name echoed in the silent car. Only the weak light from the streets prevented to let the darkness swallow everything.

Malcolm checked the phone on the dashboard with a doubting expression. Had the killer hung off? Would he back off from the publicity? Search contact with his long-lost work-family? Or even more surprising, could he own up to his mistakes? Confront himself willingly to the police and confess?

"So that's how you found out." The dry statement appeared, too surprising to Malcolm. He really had believed he had hung up on him.

He nodded weakly, realizing too late that Coleman couldn't see him.

"That old man. He'd never report me to the police. So how did you find him?" He asked matter of factly, disappointment wavering in his voice. The usual fight had left him.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you'll do the right thing from now." Malcolm advised calmly. He could hear the other person groan tiredly on the other end of the line and cover his face in his palms. His entire plan shattered, and that already in the third round. All that was left to him were the missing facts, leading him officially to prison.

"I'll treasure your advice." He replied sharply, a chair creaking in the background. Malcolm eavesdropped on any external voices that could give him some kind of hint or advantage. He almost missed hearing the arrival of the ambulance due to that. Coleman didn't.

"I guess our beautiful conversation will be forced to an end." He deadpanned, a silent door falling shut. Almost the same time as the car door of the ambulance bus. Malcolm was confused as to where he should pay attention to.

"It was a pleasure talking to you. Until next time."

The door next to him burst open. Malcolm released a surprised cry and automatically squirmed away. His shoulder collided with JT's, which sent jolts of pain through his body. Unfortunately, they got invaded from the other side as well. He was still too caught up in the phone conversation to realize he was in JT's car. Help was arriving. It was _good_. But he failed to understand.

A hand reached into the inside. He widened his eyes in shock. Another hand appeared and grabbed him by his shoulder. He opened his mouth to scream really loud. He didn't manage to release even one squeak, shortly after he realized he wouldn't need to.

He found the face of a young woman. Her caring eyes wore a professional and experienced spark. Strands of her black bob fell to her face, she didn't mind them.

"Are you stuck?" The woman spoke up with a surprisingly deep voice. Malcolm stared at her perplexed, unable to answer this little question. Even if he could, he wouldn't know the answer. Was he stuck? Probably? He was trapped by his seatbelt, but was he stuck in any way, no idea! Everything hurt!

The woman leaned forward and pulled out a knife to cut the seatbelt. She didn't expect an answer in the first place. All she was doing was keeping a conversation up with him. Keep him awake. So he didn't answer the question of how he was or what happened neither. That could be sorted out later.

"I'm going to pull you out on three, alright?" The woman announced so he could prepare himself. Malcolm’s head lolled to the side. JT received the same treatment, the only difference he was completely unresponsive. Well, Malcolm was, too, but JT was still unconscious.

The three came surprisingly quick. All of a sudden his upper body got pulled away from his place, torn out into the cold night. His left leg followed limply, only his right leg resisted moving. The EMT didn't know that so they continued pulling.

Malcolm released an agonizing cry when his right leg stretched persistently instead of giving away. If his savior noticed that he was indeed stuck was a mystery to him. With the pain in his leg intensifying, his vision completely gave up on him. A damp cloak of darkness layered over him, crushing his lungs until he choked into merciful unconsciousness.


	16. Chapter 15

Malcolm buttoned up his shirt and stood up. He grabbed his jacket from the chair next to him and threw it over his shoulder. While he did that he was constantly being observed by a young woman crossing her arms decidedly. He ignored her with ease, he had a lot of experience in that one. Only when he needed to fetch his coat tucked between her arms he wouldn't be able to avoid her any longer. And that moment was about now. He looked up to her, his lips sealed. With big puppy eyes he pointed carefully to his long coat. The woman surrendered with a groan. The bubble of silence burst with it.

"For how long are we going to ignore the elephant in the room." She snapped, Malcolm shyly accepting the coat from her grasp. "What elephant?" He squeaked, his back greeting her while he dressed up.

"Malcolm." She emphasized sternly. "This is the third time you've been in the hospital in the last week." She pointed out sharply.

"Not my best quote." He chuckled with dry humor, although he knew it would probably make everything worse.

"This isn't a joke. You've been in a _car accident_."

Malcolm turned around and raised his hands to calm her.

"No. Don't you 'Ains' me!" She lifted her index as a barrier. Malcolm backed away. "You're not fine. This case is killing you. Literally." His sister bit angrily, but Malcolm didn't fail to hear the small hint of sorrow in her voice.

Gosh, he knew himself how dangerous this case was. What a disaster JT and Malcolm had caught that evening. He didn't blame the young detective. The mere imagination of receiving the same call with his sister or mother being held captive would make him go nuts as well.

Although, it wasn't like he had a chance to quit this case. They were so close now. It was almost over. That's at least what he thought. He highly doubted Bennett Coleman had the slightest chance to turn everything in his favor. They were on his heels, it was but a matter of time until they would catch him.

He sighed tiredly. What could he say to Ainsley what she didn't already know? _I can't quit now._ Sure. _We're so close_. Definitely. _I will take care of myself_. Well... Two truths, one lie, he thought bitterly.

Ainsley huffed, turning around sulkily. "You never listen." She growled.

"I do listen." Malcolm protested weakly. It was the truth, so why did it feel like lying?

"No Malcolm, you _hear_ what we say. But you _never_ listen." She glanced at him with cold disappointed eyes. His younger sister headed for the door, but before she pulled down the handle she mused. Her red lips parted.

"I'm telling mom." She decided.

Malcolm widened his eyes and jumped to her in panic. "Ains don't! If she knows I've been here for the third time-"

"It was a car accident for Christ’s sake!" Ainsley cut him off enraged. Malcolm backed away like a hurt kitten. She felt immediately sorry, she had to remind herself he deserved it.

"You could've died Malcolm." She added more composed. Her breath suffered unsteadily. Malcolm heard what she was saying. But he didn't listen. "Don't you think she deserves to know that?"

Malcolm lowered his head. He didn't respond to that. Ainsley was right. Only because he didn't understand how terrible the situation was, didn't automatically mean the rest would share his sentiment. Additionally, he wasn't eager to find out Gil's statement on his newest near-death experience.

Ainsley, obviously disappointed by his reaction, shook her head disapprovingly. She turned around and stalked out of the room. Leaving him alone in the aggressively white room.

* * *

All eyes were on him when he entered the precinct. Malcolm's head surveyed the scene carefully, how each officer and detective scrutinized him doubtingly. He knew it wasn’t necessarily because of his small but still obvious limp. Nor the band-aids reaching up to his temple.

He inhaled determined and forcibly set moving on his walk of shame. Uncomfortably he ducked his head and sped up his pace to reach his desk as quickly as possible. His goal in sight, he breathed out relieved. But before reaching it he would need to pass JT's desk. Apparently, the other man had been released the same day as him.

He fumbled nervously on his jacket, debating if he should share a word with the man he almost killed, or keep walking. JT lifted his head and found Bright procrastinating a few feet away from his desk, which concluded Malcolm's decision.

"Hey." He waved his hand awkwardly. JT rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to his notes. Malcolm sighed heavily and cautiously trudged over to JT. "How you're doing?" He asked as casually as possible, though he really wasn't that experienced in being normal. At least he tried.

JT shot him a short glance before attending back to his files. "M'good." He muttered silently, nervous fingers fumbling through the paper in his hands and laying it back on the table. He wasn't busy at the moment, it was just a hopeless effort of pretending to make Malcolm go away.

His heart stung at the realization. He lowered his head and released a heavy breath. JT hated him. Why was he so surprised anyway, that's how it always turned out. Look at Colette.

"How's Tally?" He wondered, genuinely interested in her well-being. JT's face lit up when his wife's name was mentioned, a warm expression drawn to his voice.

"She's alright, thank god." He smiled, until it mixed in with sorrow. Doubt crawled onto his face. "She's currently away. I sent her to her parent's house. To have her safe while this crap's still going on." He explained, his voice firm and strong. Malcolm nodded awkwardly. "Wise choice, I guess. He can't be at two places."

The fact that JT didn't answer Malcolm made things even more uncomfortable. He fidgeted on his two feet before deciding it was best to leave. He could only imagine Dani was just as pissed on him. This case destroyed the family they had built themselves bit by bit.

Malcolm turned around with a heavy sigh. "I'm really sorry." He confessed hastily and scurried away. One word made him freeze in his tracks.

"Why?" JT blurted out.

Malcolm turned his head, meeting JT's eyes embarrassed.

"Erm for crashing your car, I guess?" He stammered more like a question. JT blinked perplexed about this reply and proceeded to think about the matter. "That was nuts, true." He realized. He cringed when he met Malcolm's guilty grimace.

"As for the rest-" He started, but Malcolm continued for him casually, as if he was too used to situations like these. It mortified JT. "-I apologize as well, I messed up." JT frowned at him confused.

"Why are you apologizing to _me_?" He stated the honest question bluntly. Malcolm blinked confused. Usually, questions like these weren't common. Normally everyone just yelled at him or ignored him. There had never been something in between.

He glanced confused at his partner and back to the ground. "I thought you were mad?" Bright admitted ruefully.

JT chuckled at his statement and hid his hands in his pockets. "Well, I _am_ mad." He confessed. "I'm mad at myself. I was being such a reckless idiot, I almost got us two killed."

Malcolm was surprised to hear that, he never considered things to be the other way around. Although in hindsight, it made very much sense.

"That's ok," Malcolm spoke up, a soft smile on his lips. "I probably would have done the same."

JT grinned at Malcolm mischievously. "That means nothing, it's obvious you're a reckless bastard." He laughed, and Bright hesitantly joined in.

He looked up to JT with a careful smile on his lips. "So we're good?" He asked, uncertainty wavering in his voice.

"That's hardly my call to make." JT clarified. Malcolm resisted the urge to grin from one ear to another. JT shook his head.

"And you're acting weird again, why are you so weird." He announced playfully and punched Malcolm's shoulder brotherly. Malcolm shrugged his shoulders.

"It’s always the other way around. It's actually very new to me." He revealed.

His partner shook his head disapprovingly. "And that's sad." He commented, but there was no fun in it. He meant it. He really felt pity. And so it quickly became uncomfortable. For both of them. This wasn't the light and breezy brotherly friendship they enjoyed. This was too much real talk.

Malcolm backed away with a challenging grin. "So, now we have both matching seatbelt bruises on our chest?" He snickered. JT narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Don't even start on that." He menaced him, pointing his index in his direction. Malcolm threw up his hands cheerily in the air.

"JT and I have something in common!" He announced loudly. JT sunk into his palm in shame, but Malcolm knew, deep inside he had fun, too.

Malcolm widened his eyes in realization. "And we're both reckless bastards." He gasped, JT's head struck back up in shock. "I never-" He stuttered, only to get interrupted by an excited Malcolm. "You said it yourself, no takebacks." He pointed out. JT sighed in defeat. "God help me." He muttered bitterly. He couldn't avoid Malcolm shouting "JT and I are blood brothers!" so he just took that hit. The profiler was just messing with him. And maybe he even deserved that as a harmless payback.

Dani stalked past them, a cold atmosphere following her step by step. "Mornin" JT greeted her miserably. "Mor-" Malcolm didn't even finish Dani was already gone. JT crossed his arms before his chest.

"So you didn't call her." He stated dryly. Malcolm turned his head back to JT and scratched his head embarrassed.

"I..." JT raised one eyebrow expectantly. "It's complicated." He eventually admitted. JT sighed, nevertheless shook his head.

"Well, it's your funeral." He replied and walked past Malcolm. The profiler looked painfully after his partner. Now that he had peace with him, he still needed to face Dani. No doubt she was mad he went to announce the news without her. Obviously, it didn't go as planned.

He lifted his sleeve to look at his watch. It was time to meet Gil in the Briefing room.

Time to share the Game Master's real identity.

Gil had his chin implanted in his palm as he slowly nodded. He lifted his head and took a shuddering breath, his eyes wandering to his confident consultant.

"Bennett Coleman?" He asked again. Malcolm nodded in affirmation. JT turned away. Frustrated. He had interrogated the man without noticing. How could this be even possible?

Dani wasn't too surprised by the news. She observed the scene with crossed arms. "Legally we have nothing against him. Nor can we be completely sure-"

"I'm 100% sure." Malcolm mixed in. Gil scrutinized him, but Malcolm had an earnest expression. He was being dead serious.

Gil sighed. "I guess we need to focus our investigations on him from now on." He declared. He walked towards the white billboard and wrote the name Bennett Coleman in big letters.

"Any suggestions?" Gil threw into the room, the pen dancing in his hand. He glanced at each detective once.

"Tally's mobile. He still has it." Malcolm proposed as a possible lead, ignoring the way JT tensed up.

"He might've already thrown it away." Dani countered back, eyes sharply trained on him. Malcolm knew she was scanning him for information he didn't reveal. Such as the conversation he had with the killer before the ambulance arrived. He remembered vaguely how Coleman had told him he'd keep her phone with him.

"We could check it anyway." He replied, but his argument didn't carry much strength. Gil, who knew him better than anyone, now was onto him as well. Even if they were, they had nothing against his hand. So they ignored it, for now. Malcolm could sigh out in relief, but he was trained well enough to hide real emotions.

JT threw in the suggestion to check Coleman's bank accounts, while Malcolm was distracted by his buzzing mobile. He pulled it out, planning to mute it temporarily. He frowned at the message from the unknown number. He opened his phone to have a look at the SMS.

_Dear Player,_

_I apologize for the bug in the game you had to discover unfortunately. Even if it is too late by now, I'd like to assure you that it is fixed, and such a mistake will never happen again. I took care of it._

_Have fun playing in the future,_

_Game Master_

Malcolm's hand started to tremble until it was shaking violently. It took him a second or two to comprehend what Coleman intended to say. The realization hit him brutally.

He snapped out of his trance and stormed out of the room. He vaguely heard Gil calling his name. He ignored every officer he rushed past. The cold air that clashed into his lungs didn't scare the nausea away as he had hoped. He grabbed the nearest cab and urged the driver to drive as fast as possible. The ride was a complete horror, a trip to hell. He didn't know if he'd be too late. At the same time, he was sure to be. The anticipation was torture.

He didn't know how much money he left the driver. He was aware at every second that Gil and his detectives were on his heels the whole time. He ignored them victoriously.

He stumbled out of the car into the street, taking in shallow breaths to kill the nauseating feeling in his throat. In vain. The street was empty even in broad daylight. He staggered to the door. And when he opened it, the bell didn't announce his presence.

They were all dead.

For a whole night, they had been. The corpses were neatly seated in their chairs. Not tied, but during their torture they definitely were, Malcolm noticed it on their tenderly red burned wrists.

He entered the bar in trance. He looked into their dead and empty eyes. Jorge, the silent but kind friend. Jim, the man who could build anything with his hands, but sucked at Poker. Carl, always tidy and very superstitious. Biff, the fun and cool uncle of the group. Larry, their caring leader, and best friend.

Jeff, the kind and loving father.

They were all dead.

Murdered.

Slaughtered.

Slaughtered in a bloodbath!

Their mouths had been sewed together when they had still been alive, one by one. The agony was carved in their faces. They bled out slowly, one by one gliding into a horrible death.

Jeff watched it all. Was forced to watch it. The beer glass, he was definitely polishing when the murderer entered the bar, was covered in crimson red blood. Jeff's mouth was sewn tightly as well. The difference to the other man? He was covered in shards, little shards of glass stuck into his body like art. The two biggest ones were thrust into his eyeballs.

It was a nightmare Bright would never forget. The scene replayed visibly in his head, again and again. The possible screams howling in his ears. The urge to fall onto his knees, holding his ears, screaming out in agony. He was close, but he walked the path of shame. To the bell, the little bell in Jeff's hand that greeted him and Dani when the world seemed to close their gates.

_No one arrives here by coincidence. There is always a reason behind it._

The reflection of himself was drawn onto the metallic bell. Why did he see a monster instead of his face?

Why was it so familiar, the walk to the bell?

_Don't open._

Why did every step burn aggressively on his soles?

_No... don't open it._

Why was every suck of breath embroidered with needles?

_Don't!_

He looked into the bell as he looked into the box once.

_AAAHHHHH-_

* * *

Gil dodged Malcolm just in time when he dashed blindly out of the crime scene. This wasn't just a regular crime scene, this was a scene straight out of a horror movie. These poor men had been tortured drastically. The killer wanted to ensure a gruesome and painful death. That was guaranteed. It was a wonder to him how Malcolm found out about the sextuplicate homicide. Probably a direct message from their wanted man.

After he had contacted the forensics, he hid his hands in his pockets. He took in the crime scene, analyzing it as long it wasn't crowded. It rarely happened that his team were the first witnesses. Usually, regular officers were contacted first, then forensic, and lastly Major Crimes. It seemed like the Game Master loved shortcuts.

Gil's eyes fell on Dani. She was shaken, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her whole body was trembling, her eyes torn wide open. She stared into the dead faces, at the same time she wasn't there.

"So you were with him." Gil realized dryly. Dani blinked, her eyes unwillingly getting wet again. She used her hand to wipe away the tears and prevent her nose from running.

"Obviously." She sobbed, giving her best to build up her professional wall. Gil nodded absently. He looked to the barkeeper, wondering what Dani and Malcolm managed to get out of them before the killer struck again.

"Why didn't you tell us?" He asked bitterly, not taking his eyes from the barkeeper. Only when she refused to answer he looked at her, her head falling down in embarrassment.

Dani smiled sorrowfully. "I mean, I was supposed to lay low, wasn't I?" She pointed out, but her argument was weak.

Gil shook his head. "I know you respect my position in orders. I'm also aware that you are ready to break them if you consider them wrong. The Dani I know stands her ground for her decisions."

Dani turned her head away. He caught her. Gil just knew her too well, lying was fruitless. She sighed defeated. It's not like she lied on purpose to everyone. It's just that the truth is harder to accept than a pretty little lie. She simply wasn't able to accept the truth. Speaking it out loud seemed impossible. Running away from it turned out to be worse, especially if you only had detective friends on your heels.

She swallowed hard on her burning throat. "I..." She started but struggled to continue. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped. Blowing bubbles like a mindless fish. She shook her head and decided determined to try out a different approach. Back to the times before the second round, the traumatic experience pulsating through her veins persistently, like dirty water poisoning everything it touched.

"After watching Malcolm almost die, I was so dedicated to catching that bastard. He murdered innocents for show and messed with us, I wanted to bring him down. No matter when, no matter what. Nothing else was in my brain." She explained what once was. Before the second round, that destroyed her completely. "After meeting the man firsthand..." She found herself unable to talk. Rip the patch off with one go, she told herself.

"I was scared." She confessed ashamed. She felt JT nearing them interested, not believing what he just heard. Gil frowned concerned. "I was scared of him, okay?" She repeated offended. She had built long for the undying respect of her tough appearance. But wasn't she a human in the end, too? A human that was frightened when a knife rained down on her defenseless shape with no end? When a heartless monster, who was capable of slaughtering his own work-family, threatened to kill her, wasn't it normal to be more than just afraid?

Gil placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn't say anything, but his silence spoke in several books. He understood, that was what mattered. A single tear escaped her eyes.

"Malcolm wanted to inform you as quick as possible. I resisted. I didn't want to meet this monster again so soon." She blurted out. The image of JT and Malcolm rolling into the ambulance returned to her mind. The respiratory mask on their bruised faces. The cuts covering their bodies, the huge seatbelt bruise.

"I should've been with them." She realized horrified. Gil scowled in missing understanding. "I should have been with them!" She burst out uncontrollably. "Malcolm was right, there is no time to lose. The third round could've started anytime. I _allowed_ it." She sobbed hysterically and covered her face in her palm.

JT widened his eyes panicked, Gil didn't hesitate to grab her by her shoulders. He did what he was good at. Keep everyone sane. He had plenty of experience in convincing innocent people that they weren't guilty of something a killer had done.

"Dani." His voice was firm and steady. "There is nothing you could've done. _Coleman_ did this. To these men, to JT, to Malcolm. To _you._ "

Dani shook her head unconvinced. "I know, Gil, don't you think I don't know how powerless I am?" She sighed shakily. She brushed away her hair. "I am angry at myself. For how I could be such a coward. An egoistic coward. It's disgusting." She realized bitterly. Her head sunk down in shame, she felt weak and useless.

Gil never gave up on her. He had plenty of warm smiles to bestow upon his protégés. "It's okay to be weak, you know." He spoke up, his tone smoky. "Sometimes, you just need to care for yourself before you can give that to other people."

She smiled sadly, wondering how Gil could be always so wise. How could a regular mortal like her ever be like him?

Gil wasn't always right, that she realized for sure now. "Not if you're us, Gil." She disagreed bitterly. Her eyes fell on the dead corpses. Civilians. "People trust us to put everything else before our own personal needs." She realized. They weren't just sitting in a discounter, giving away food. They were responsible for catching villains. They were the parents who checked under the bed for monsters, just in a more horrifying way.

Her gaze returned to Gil, and for once she experienced him speechless. A wave of guilt rushed through her body. "Look, this case isn't just work anymore." Her eyes found JT’s. His head sunk into thoughts. "This is personal." She emphasized, gesturing to her colleague.

Gil nodded slowly, absently. Maybe he was trapped in his own thoughts as well, nevertheless it seemed like he wholeheartedly agreed with her statement.

"It's more serious than it has ever been," Dani spoke, her voice firm and cold. "If we're not ready to accept a personal loss, we can't afford to mess up." She stated harshly.

She was startled by the warm touch of Gil's palm on her shoulder. "And that's exactly why we need to stay together." Dani blinked perplexed. "If we destroy that bond we built up tediously, we already lost this battle."

"We are friends." JT joined in optimistically. "No matter how many obstacles he throws at us, we stay together. That's _our_ advantage." He exclaimed confidently. Dani revealed a shy smile.

"Dani?" Gil persistently searched for her eyes. "You do realize we do not hate you for the decisions you made?" He checked, concerned about her.

The woman chuckled relieved. "Yeah, sure. It's just-" She fought for the right words to say. "-hard to believe if I already hate myself so much for that."

Gil smiled kindly and stroked her arm. "I think I know someone who has a similar approach to life." He revealed, his eyes momentarily shifting to the door. Dani couldn't help but look for it, too.

"Yeah, he must be eating himself by now." She added, knowing how bad her friend coped with guilt. They decided to give Bright some time for himself, but he couldn’t hide forever.

"Do _you_ wanna talk to him?" She asked unsure. Gil clearly noticed that she wanted to go to him. Talk to him privately. They both knew these new victims in their living days after all. So he shook his head dismissively.

"No, it's okay." He responded. He was happy to accept that more and more people cared for his kid. "I guess you're as qualified as I am, if not even better."

Dani smiled at him thankfully and nodded. She turned around quietly and went to look for her friend. She has been aided. Now someone needed to look after their problematic case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'mma pull off that Ainsley move, walking out like "Ooops! I murdered. Again."  
> R.I.P. Jeff's


	17. Chapter 16

Malcolm remained silent.

He managed to find peace with Dani, but not with himself. He has never been more ashamed. He had a clear profile, he knew how this man worked. Telling him about Jeff's was a mistake he should've seen coming. Normally, he shouldn't be surprised by that outcoming. Showing that he was indeed only portrayed his dumbness from several different angles. A heartless killer like Coleman had no interpersonal relationships. He was different, he had no use for people like Jeff. If they loved him, there were nothing but pathetic in his eyes.

Bright knew this, but in his delusional state, he dared to try a new approach. Now he needed to live with blood on his hands because that's what his job was. A mistake as a profiler carries immense costs, no normal individual could handle that easily.

So Bright was currently on a dark road, breaking several promises on his trip. His agreement with Dani, not to blame himself for what a killer did, broken. Returning back to Jeff's, technically not broken, but definitely not as planned. The only promise he would enjoy breaking would be to smack the killer with his fist when they’ll finally catch him. That man was in for something. He doubted Jeff would be mad at Malcolm for hurting Bennett after what he did to Jeff and his friends.

Now what was the plan? Knowing the killer was a great advantage indeed, yet useless without proof. They couldn't charge him without evidence. Well, they could, but it would end effortless for them and the killer would be free of charges faster than they could think. Not to forget they were talking about Coleman, one of the wealthy people in New York. Getting a good expensive lawyer would be brutal for them, so they required real bulletproof evidence.

They agreed to check on all new leads and discover anything dirty about Coleman, but so far the man had wiped out his whole past. That was fishy, but not enough for the judge to speak some years.

Talking with Coleman turned out fruitless as well. The man didn't hide from them. He played with them. He knew what they needed. And he kept it under his paws, neglecting any possible ways to prove him guilty. Somehow, even his alibis turned out fine, which wasn't very promising.

Till now, Malcolm didn't see any other way than waiting for Coleman to attack them again. They needed to wait for the last round in order to catch him on point, that was the bulletproof evidence they were talking about.

Therefore, Malcolm didn't mention his concerns. Quality time. Coleman could play with them on the phone long enough, but if he really would be coming for Malcolm, he needed to step into the spotlight.

So why refused Malcolm to give his colleagues a fair warning? Well, because Gil wouldn't hesitate to rule him out and lock him into a safe house. That was going the opposite way of luring out their killer. No, Malcolm would have to keep it his little secret.

Above all of that, he needed to deal with something much worse right now.

Jessica Whitley. His mother.

The door opened energetically. Malcolm startled, almost dropping the little present to atone for his sins. Jessica looked fresh and styled as always. But she didn't carry her usual harmonic smile. She was angry. Malcolm swallowed nervously and stretched out his arm with a bottle of wine and the small package of chocolates.

"Hello, dear mother." He greeted with a lopsided grin.

Jessica furrowed her eyebrows in displeasure. "A car crash, Malcolm? Seriously?" She snapped instead. She didn't budge, denying him the very entrance into the childhood home he sought.

No matter what an experienced psychological expert Malcolm was, he had a hard time figuring out how to deal with the people he cared for. Somehow it seemed easier to get along with his work family than with his cold family by blood.

"Chocolates?" Malcolm suggested helplessly. Judging by Jessica's reaction this was the wrong thing to say, if not the worst. At least she granted him access to their huge mansion. The elder woman turned around with a groan, the majestic sound of her heels accompanying her to the living room. "Is this some joke to you?" She hissed.

Malcolm pulled off his jacket and removed it loosely. In an emergency, he could grab it quickly and run. "I'm afraid it's my job." He answered, very well aware that she didn't hear him. He placed the gifts on a shelf and headed to the living room.

"Your job, huh?" Jessica greeted him unamused. Malcolm grinned embarrassed. He forgot that Jessica was a born mother, it was impossible to fool her or keep secrets. That woman sees, hears, and knows everything.

"Maybe I should send a job offer to apply you as a nurse, since you like visiting the hospital so much." She threatened sharply. Malcolm didn't doubt his mother's capability. He was just relieved to know his mother would never do this to him. She loved her kids and would support them with all of their foolish dreams and ideas.

"Mother-" Malcolm started reassuringly. Jessica raised her index. "Don't get me with 'I'm alright'. I know you're not." She interrupted. Malcolm closed his mouth, as it was the exact thing he was going to begin with. Was he so predictable? Or maybe he was running out of telling other people's worries off. Probably the latter.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jessica calmed down, her voice vulnerable and weak. He noticed a glass of bourbon in her hands, no idea where it came from. But Malcolm knew the reason it was there. He saw the reason every time he looked into the mirror.

"You literally demonstrated your answer just now." He deadpanned. He was back in the nineties, a child reasoning with his mother. Why did he try when it was predictable he'd never win the fight. Maybe because it was never a fight to begin with.

"Is it wrong to worry about my child?" Jessica's face dropped, her with devastation marked eyes starring daggers at him. Now he felt bad. Very bad.

"No-" Malcolm started, ready to object with his point of view. Jessica was quicker.

"So I'm the bad mother for worrying for my child. Should I act like Gil, who keeps you in this dangerous case after you nearly died three times in a week?" She raised one eyebrow expectantly, waiting for Malcolm's defeat. He sighed heavily. "No." His gaze fell, his shoulders hunching down in guilt.

Jessica scrutinized her subordinated son doubtfully. She took a calm sip and lowered her glass. "You're still not going to stop." She stated dryly. She turned her cold back to him and gazed out of the window, deep in thoughts. "Hardheaded as ever." She muttered absently.

"Guess I learned from the best." Malcolm carefully looked up. He thought going with a compliment would do the trick.

"Then maybe there is another one of my qualities I reject to have," Jessica admitted.

The words hurt Malcolm more than he would have expected. He was a disgrace to his family, and it was painful to look into those never approving eyes. Every breath he took lead to disappointing the people he cared for. Sometimes it was hard to live with that shame. In moments like these, he wished he'd never existed in the first place.

It was useless. He turned around and trudged to the door. "I'm sorry." He confessed genuinely. Jessica remained quiet, her arms crossed before her chest. "I'm just too good at messing up." He muttered. He didn't even know why it slipped out of his mouth in the first place. Maybe it was just a fact that had to be said at some point. A fact that everyone knew but needed to be mentioned to fully understood.

"Malcolm-" His mother whined, but he couldn't stand it anymore. He needed some air, he couldn't stay at this cell that was known as his childhood home. He never felt comfortable here after his father was arrested. "-Don't you think I don't know?"

Malcolm turned around confused. He found the same desperation that he heard in her voice back in her eyes.

"I know you don't do anything on purpose. That's just who you are." She said. Malcolm smiled sadly as he shrugged.

"What? A constant pain in the ass?" He stared into the disapproving eyes of his mother. "The time I was gone from New York must've been the best time in your life after the whole thing." Malcolm realized sorrowful. He knew what it meant. Maybe it was better for everyone if he just disappeared again.

"It was hell," Jessica admitted nonchalantly.

Malcolm turned around. He didn't believe her, but after analyzing the woman everything in him screamed it was the truth. The weird yet so ever truth.

"You’re my child, Malcolm. I will never stop worrying about you. That is what makes me a mother. At least while you do the same crap in New York I get to see you." She walked closer to him.

"You get to see me in the hospital. Isn't that counterproductive?" He deadpanned.

Jessica softly grabbed his shoulders and began to examine his suit with gentle fingertips.

"When you keep away the bad things happening to you, it's like you're back in Quantico. I can never tell if you're hurt or not. It's another living nightmare I'm not ready to go through again."

Malcolm threw his arms around her suddenly. She returned the embrace with a small sniffle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." He stammered scared. He forced himself back into the hidden tunnel under their house. The fear of losing his family. He put his mother through these emotions so often, and now again. He was a monster to put her poor heart into this misery.

"You're not going to quit the NYPD, are you?" She spoke up all of a sudden. Malcolm chuckled between a sob. "No chance." He replied, his mother returning the soft chuckle.

She pulled herself out of the hug and positioned her son to look her directly into her eyes. "Then at least, tell me if you're hurt. Tell me if you're not alright. I want to be able to trust you." She demanded seriously. Malcolm swallowed slowly. "At least concerning that topic." She added with a hint of twisted humor. Malcolm couldn't hinder himself from laughing.

"Fine." He sighed peacefully.

"Promise me," Jessica added, her face stern and determined.

Malcolm gave his word.

"So, what is it that you need?" Jessica asked after they finally agreed to a certain understanding.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Malcolm laughed nervously. Jessica threw a knowing glance at him, he scratched his neck.

"You wouldn't even dare to enter the lioness’s cave if it wasn't gravely needed for your stupid work, so let's get over with it. How can I help?" Jessica snorted superciliously and cast an arrogant glance at his small appearance.

Malcolm laughed in defeat. "Well, there is a matter that concerns the police dearly," Malcolm admitted. Jessica didn't hide her curiosity. "It is about a certain Mr. Coleman. You know him I'd guess straight ahead." Bright revealed. Immediately Jessica's face lit up.

"Oh, dear Mr. Coleman!" She exclaimed joyfully before realizing the topic they were talking about. "Oh no." She remembered, her happy expression dropping. Malcolm smiled at that. "Say, is he just in trouble, or are we talking..."

"Certain trouble, that's more fitting in our terms," Malcolm responded. He motioned with his eyes to the couch. Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Why do I always attract the psychopaths." She groaned while making her way to the comfortable furniture. Malcolm followed her close by. "We both seem to be some sort of magnets to that." He added unruffled.

"Now." Malcolm crossed his legs and made himself comfortable. Jessica was tense, he didn't miss that. "Tell me about Coleman. How did you two start to make business anyway?"

Jessica smiled to herself at that question.

"Well, I am mostly the reason he got that big." She revealed proudly. Malcolm raised one eyebrow, mentioning for her to continue. "I was his venture capitalist. You see, he had plenty of money to pay some employees, but not enough to raise a whole company." She explained, her red lips parting to a smile and revealing white teeth.

"So you helped him make business, gained some profit, the usual stuff." Malcolm summed up. He interrupted his ongoing thoughts for one question. "When was that again? Before or after?"

Jessica waved her hand dismissively at her son.

"Oh dear, long after. Coleman is barely a few years older than you."

Malcolm nodded. So Coleman should be about thirty-five, or older. It was good to know at least something. Somehow, the man had succeeded in keeping a low profile of his whole life or erasing his complete existence. Except for the people he met and left alive. He would not make the mistake of bailing his mother as he did with Jeff and the others. Mistakes like these were too crucial to even think of making them.

"What else do you know about him? What was he like?" Malcolm scrounged further. His mother fell into a fit of praising.

"Oh, he was perfect. Good-looking, polite, ambitious. He was the son I never had." She dreamed lovely. Malcolm glared at her.

"And I'm sitting right here, just so you know." He grumbled annoyed. Jessica returned the glare.

"No one forced you to become a profiler." She spat disgusted. "You could have been like him, an entrepreneur. But your goal was never to make me proud in the first place but to follow your own desires, which ironically makes me sort of proud." Jessica mused surprised. As delighted as he was to hear of his mother being proud of him, he had a job to do. "That's wonderful, but back to Coleman."

Jessica nodded. "Right, back to the kind and handsome man." Jessica raved dreamily. Malcolm shook his head.

"I knew from the very beginning that he was the ideal businessman, or else I would have never invested in him." She told, suddenly sounding neutral as if the act before was just a charade to entertain Malcolm. Maybe it was.

"When you say 'ideal businessman', this doesn't seem to add up with the former mentioned 'kind man'." Malcolm threw in critically. Jessica eyed him challenging, urging Malcolm deep inside to continue his objection.

"The Homo Oeconomicus." He smiled and spread his hands to the side. "The ideal standard of a human. Utility-maximizer. It says they only act after their own profit, excluding extraneous factors such as other people's interests. Their thinking is considered to be more rational than emotional. People who carry the traits of a Homo Oeconomicus aren't considered to be kind. Actions like these prevent them from reaching their own goals, which is a disastrous turn of events."

Jessica's challenging smirk didn't vanish. "You know that's only in theory." She objected with a skilled poker face. Malcolm slowly shook his head, leaning forward with his elbow on his knee so his hand could rest in his palm.

"But not with this guy."

Jessica smiled proudly and nodded. "You're right, unfortunately. It's hard to notice, but Coleman isn't one of the norms. He expresses pure coldness. I would've said he could walk over corpses to reach his goal. Just an expression." She defended herself, but Malcolm nodded understandingly. "An expression excellently fitting him I'm afraid."

"I ignored the warning bells screaming in my head. I didn't realize that the good traits he brought didn't only fit a successful businessman, but also a psychopath." Jessica admitted. Malcolm smiled warmly.

"There's no harm in that. All you did was invest in something you saw potential in. It's what you do." He calmed her down.

"At least he made it far." Jessica sighed in resignation.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows.

"You lost touch?"

Jessica shot him an incredulous look.

"Why of course. He can perfectly stand on his own now. He isn't dependent on my money anymore."

"He reached everything he set his minds on," Malcolm added, remembering the phone call with his father. Jessica nodded, oblivious to his inner thoughts.

"Exactly. I wonder why he would risk destroying all of that by running rampage through the streets?"

Malcolm forgot his thoughts and turned his attention to his mother. "Don't worry, I got that covered. Coleman is our man."

Jessica observed his determined expression, a sad smile creeping on her face. "Yet you don't have enough evidence or else you'd have him cuffed instead of seeking for my intel." She noticed. Malcolm nodded, painfully aware of the reality. "In what way is my word going to help?" Jessica asked genuinely interested.

"It's not that much worth as we'd wish to, unfortunately." Malcolm huffed disappointed. "We need solid evidence and proof of him being emotionally stable. I won't let him receive the same treatment as Martin. Not on my watch." Malcolm growled determined. Coleman had done too many horrible things to get away so easily. It pained him enough to know his father's luxurious life despite his terrific sins.

He jumped up. Jessica was startled by that sudden movement. Shortly after she rushed after her son. "You're going already?" She protested disappointed. Malcolm was already at the door. He looked back at his mother while grabbing his coat.

"Yes. I have to meet Gil." He responded, the cringe in his mother's face not going unnoticed but ignored. "This man is highly dangerous. We need to stop this madness as fast as possible."

He threw over his coat, his mother watching him intently. Before he grabbed the handle he advised his mother not to tell anyone about his visit or conversation. Jessica shrugged it off, already familiarized with Malcolm's weird behavior. She was not expecting this though.

"I love you." He muttered as he hesitated to open the door. "I love you, too." Jessica returned lightly. Malcolm turned around, holding a concerning severity in his eyes. Jessica gasped inaudibly.

"No, I... I really mean it. I love you. And Ainsley. I love two so much." He confessed, sounding desperate all of a sudden.

"Are we in trouble?" Jessica's voice pitched higher, reminded of what happened with Watkins. Malcolm smiled sorrowfully.

"No. No, you're not." He calmed her down. "I would never let another psychopath touch a hair on your heads, you know that."

Jessica nodded absently, swallowing down the traumatic experiences with the junkyard killer. Her head shot up in shocking realization.

"But what about you?"

Malcolm remained silent instead of calming her down. His mouth was too dry to form some pretty sweet lies.

"Malcolm." Jessica sighed in a low scolding manner.

"I'll be careful." He assured her weakly, but Jessica didn't buy any of that anymore.

"Why can't you stay out of this case? Just this one?" She fell into a begging role she wholeheartedly disliked. Malcolm drew a pained grimace and shook his hands.

"Because I can't." He replied obviously. Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Right, how could I forget. They need your genius brain." She huffed tiredly.

"No it's…" Malcolm hesitated, gently grabbing her hand. "I fear it's too late to quit by now." He confessed.

Jessica scowled at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" A light nervous laugh escaping her lips.

Malcolm looked her dead serious in the eyes. "He's targeting us four. We're in this together from the first day on. The only way to get back to a rather normal life is to catch him." Or kill him. Whatever adds up, Malcolm finished in his thoughts. This was really just like the Jumanji game in the more realistic version. If they could beat the Game Master, this nightmare would be over. Finally.

Jessica eyed him worried. "Then I guess you can't promise to take care of yourself." She muttered pessimistically. Malcolm smiled warmly at his mother. It was frustrating yet so comforting how good she knew him. He couldn't lose. There was too much at stake to allow that. There certainly had been a time he had wished not to exist, to be dead. These times weren’t now. He had reasons to live, motivation to make him fight, and the resolution to win.

"I won't die." He promised determined. Jessica didn't look impressed.

"Well, your bar is almost too high." She criticized ironically. Malcolm gladly ignored it, rather crushing her in a bear hug.

"Oh!" Jessica gasped surprised by the sudden affection.

"I love you," Malcolm whispered, his eyes clenched shut. Jessica became comfortable very fast and settled to stroke his back.

As sudden as it had happened it was over. The warmth of the hug was replaced with the cold December's wind rushing into the house.

"If this is over, I'll invite you all to dinner." Malcolm offered with a bright smile. Jessica smiled warmly, beating the cold temperature easily.

"You'd better be present." She dared. Malcolm was startled by the dark meaning that is kept hidden. Yet he was certain it wouldn't be his funeral.

"See you!" He called before turning around and settling into the busy city life of New York. He didn't turn around once. Else he would have to look into those eyes. Those eyes that never stopped worrying because of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My greatest fear is that I post the wrong chapter. Every. Single. Time.


	18. Chapter 17

It was yet early in the morning. The typical get to school/work business had long calmed down, nevertheless, the day was pretty young. Coffee ruled the world, wherever you let your eyes wander. It was strange how one rather simple built liquid could get so popular among humanity all around the globe. It was common knowledge that caffeine-filled drinks were only able to wake up the mind for a short period of time. The aftereffects were more tiredness, which surely strengthened the desire for replenishment. If you'd look at it like that, coffee was just another drug. A legal one, yet still a drug.

Malcolm dragged himself into the little office, abandoning any more coffee thoughts. He should get settled with the disappointment of his coffee getting cold and lonely at his desk.

"Morning." Gil, his boss, greeted him cheerfully. If that wasn't already odd enough. They were in the middle of a crisis, happy emotions were rare. On the other hand, complete desperation is known to have some weird effects on mental health. Erratic mood swings are common results, laughing instead of crying. The mind never ceased to amaze Malcolm.

"I didn't even get the tiniest little sip of my precious coffee." Malcolm began to criticize right away instead of greeting him formally. The last days had taken a great toll on him, he simply lacked the energy to keep his optimistic attitude up. "Mind telling what's the big deal?" He grumbled, suppressing the urge to look after his coffee on his desk.

Gil specifically ordered only him to his office, there must be an important reason than just 'checking'. And whatever that was, it was, without doubt, more concerning than his coffee getting cold. Maybe it didn't even taste good. It was a new brand after all, from the new coffee machine at the precinct.

His lips escaped a yawn. Gil eyed him concerned. "Did you sleep at all?" He asked caringly.

Malcolm raised one eyebrow. "Was that rhetorical?" He deadpanned grumpily.

Bright knew the man didn't mean him any ill and was genuinely concerned. But from the deepest of his heart, he just couldn't bring himself to care right now. It had been days since he had had a good sleep. And lately, he figured out that his body didn't count the forced naps at the hospital. The wounds he carried after that were even more aggravating.

"Alright." Gil sighed defeated, realizing that it was pointless to discuss Malcolm's concerning wellbeing. He didn't doubt that he was already getting pressured by his family, he didn't need to poke in any further.

"You met Coleman more often than anyone else. Do you have any ideas how we can charge him guilty for a lifetime?" Gil asked, professional severity returning to his face.

Malcolm's face literally lit up. It was one of his typical stage moments with all eyes on him.

"We need to catch him while he's at it. Discovering him in the midst of action will be the best evidence we can get." Bright exclaimed motivated. As if one button was enough to change him from down to highly energetic. Probably Malcolm himself was more affected by the same mood swings he detected on Gil.

Gil smiled approvingly at his employee. "Sounds to me like you have a plan?" He mentioned curiously.

Malcolm's smile crumbled lightly at the statement, horribly reminded by the inevitable. Coleman planned to kidnap him, just like Watkins once succeeded. If he could give his team a fair warning, how drastic could that change their tactics? Could they prepare and beat Coleman, or would he be locked into a safe house for who knows how long? Coleman could terrorize his loved ones while he stayed isolated and hidden.

Malcolm decided to test the water. "Well..." He started reluctantly. "How open are you to suggestions that involve, I don't know let's say, endangering my life?" Bright phrased carefully.

Gil's smile dropped in a second, his eyes glaring disappointed at Malcolm's slender frame.

"No." He decided sharply, the authority of his word striking the consultant.

Malcolm huffed annoyed at the expected but unwanted turn of events. "Then I have none."

Gil groaned and buried his face in his palms. He massaged his temples. All in one, he had aged in mere seconds and looked absolutely drained out. "This is hopeless." He muttered tiredly and proceeded to stare into nothingness.

Malcolm eyed him concerned, but he was at a loss of what to say. He wasn't good at cheering people up, usually he made everything worse. There was less damage evoked if he just remained silent, no matter how pitiful his mentor appeared.

Gil recovered from the short breakdown, he braced up all by himself. Malcolm observed his lips parting with high expectations. For now, he would really enjoy laying low and merely following orders, especially if they came from a trusted person.

A massive noise emerged behind his back, drowning into shattering glass. Deep from his lungs, a cry escaped his lips and his trained body dropped to the ground. His heart hammered violently against his chest and his breath rattled rapidly.

Hands grabbed his shoulder and shook him. His disoriented pale eyes focused on Gil. He had a frightened expression and stammered helplessly.

"I'm good!" Malcolm blurted out, after that pausing to swallow.

Relief took over Gil's face, but only for a short second. Malcolm turned around on his back, leaning on his elbows. He didn't dare to straighten up yet to his full height, it was safer to stay close to the ground. They both knew what the source of the noise had been.

"A gunshot," Gil croaked while Malcolm acknowledged the blanket of shards over his body. Most of Gil's office window was still intact. The bullet had missed them by a lot and was embedded in the brick wall.

Malcolm frowned confused, he really wouldn't have expected the killer to show up at the precinct and shoot into the office like a madman. That didn't fit the profile, that didn't even sound like the Coleman they had started to get to know.

Gil peeked over the window that wasn't broken, Malcolm tensed up. He readied himself for another bullet, but something else happened instead.

Gil jumped to his feet and stumbled out of his office. Malcolm instantly followed curiously. What happened before his eyes was so bizarre, he wouldn't even believe it if he himself would be the one to retell the story.

The whole precinct was running batshit crazy.

Chaos was the new rule and every officer followed it strictly. Screaming and shouting filled their ears, delirious eyes saw what they wanted to. Someone threw a chair to the other end of the hall. It crashed brutally against the wall and broke into several pieces.

Gil barely dodged in time before a running woman crashed into him. She screamed insanely loud at nothing behind her and ended up knocking herself out by running headfirst into the wall next to Gil and Malcolm.

Bright crouched down concerned and examined the unconscious woman. Gil was speechless, having a hard to time processing what was wrong with his employees.

A coffee mug crashed at the wall over his head. Gil ducked in time.

"Gil!" Malcolm screeched, but the lieutenant had everything in control. He secured his attacker in a firm grip and brought him to the ground. The young man huffed in pain. Faster than Malcolm could see Gil fished out the man's own handcuffs and strapped his hands on his back.

Patrick, Gil noticed during the process. He was still a rookie, new and motivated. He was yet in street patrol, but Gil had his hopes up for him to be the glowing new generation. Was that imagination about to shatter?

"What has gotten into them?" Gil exclaimed, struggling to keep the young officer pinned to the ground. The boy snarled and wriggled like a feral animal. Gil looked at Malcolm for support, given he was the only other sane person beside him.

Malcolm opened his mouth, and then he tore his eyes open. Gil only noticed the loud crash, but barely got a glimpse of the pair of feet disappearing out of the window.

"Oh my god!" Malcolm cried out and jumped onto his feet. He dashed to the window, so did Gil. Bright was surpassed easily by the elder.

While Gil checked for the person who had jumped straight out of the window, Malcolm was stopped by a burning slap on his cheek. The force swept him off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground, landing on his side with his pelvis taking most of the impact.

Dark hungry eyes glared down on him. With a roar, the police officer leaped down on Malcolm's grounded body.

A fist collided with his cheekbone, his path misguided to the same direction. Gil stretched out his hand to the downed profiler, who gladly accepted it.

"You good?" He asked in passing.

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders, feeling much better on his two feet. "Been better." He admitted honestly, hot stings burning through his soft skin.

Before the couple could decide on any further actions, Gil discovered a familiar scene. It was strange encountering the exact situation in a normally safe police precinct. Usually, officers didn't try to suffocate one another.

Instantly Gil felt the urge to check on Malcolm, just so he could rid the picture of the boy himself almost getting choked to death.

Bright was gone.

Instead of standing by his side, the young profiler stormed into action. He tried to break the hold of Tom's hands had on John's throat. "Stop it!" He yelled at the attacker’s deafened ears.

Gil tackled the man he normally trusted to patrol the streets for safety. Tom went to the ground, disorientated. Malcolm supported John, so the weakened man wouldn't drop down as well. Gil trusted him with that, while he was checking on Tom before he decided to cuff him as well, just to make sure.

A strangled gasp tore him back to reality. His head snapped around, sending a sharp pain through his neck. John didn't manage to strangle Malcolm for remotely long. Gil's fist shut off the man's lights.

He didn't blame John at all, he realized the man must've been in shock and mistook Malcolm for his former attacker. It was merely self-defense, but it went too close to dark drawers of memories Gil tried to lock away.

His pulse was pounding uncontrollably fast. He crouched to Malcolm, who was hiding his throat in his hands and coughing roughly. "Are you alright?" Gil asked terrified, his heart dropping to the bottom. The trauma was still too fresh for both of them.

Instead of answering Gil, Malcolm raised his head and acknowledged the havoc before their very eyes. "Is JT dancing Polka on his desk?" He winced bemused.

Gil blinked perplexed and searched for the mentioned detective, who was indeed dancing a version of Polka on top of a desk.

"It seems not everyone is affected negatively." Gil mused bewildered. With the next step, the detective missed the table and crashed to the ground. Gil and Malcolm cringed simultaneously.

"Still dangerous," Malcolm added, not trying to imagine the pain his colleague went through with that fall. He doubted he himself would ever recover from seeing the usually severe JT dance and sing on top of a table.

Gil grabbed Malcolm's hand and pulled him up, bringing him back to the safety of his office.

"Gil, they aren't themselves anymore." Bright mentioned apprehensively. Gil nodded fiercely.

"Yes, I kinda noticed that, too." He grumbled. He was breaking his head on how he could stop this chaos and get everyone back to normal. He had no control over his officers and detectives, they had gone completely feral.

"Any ideas?" He asked, quietly shutting the door. He doubted anyone would hear their retreat with all that noise. He cringed at the gunshots fired into the ceiling, accompanied by a burst of lunatic laughter. Gil eyed the detective that shot into the ceiling like a maniac copy of a cowboy and closed the curtains.

He turned around to face Malcolm. "This is definitely one of Coleman's schemes." The lieutenant sighed and massaged one temple. He just didn't see why. Didn't Malcolm say the next game he would come after Gil? Then why was he attacking every single officer and detective in this god-forsaken precinct?

"Gil? Did you try the new coffee down the hallway?" Malcolm brought up, of all times he chose now.

Gil shook his head, fearing his consultant was about to go nuts as well.

"I fear Coleman is responsible for the new machine. He must've laced it with drugs to make everyone run amok." Bright explained, one hand on his chin.

Gil cast a glance at his profiler. "He laced it with drugs?" He recaptured skeptically. He couldn't deny that Malcolm made a valid point, he did not drink coffee this morning, he wasn't in the mood. So did Bright mention earlier that he didn't get to taste the new coffee. "Is that even realistic?" He added curiously.

Trust Malcolm to know random facts. "With drugs, mostly nothing is impossible. Or don't you remember that one time with Dr. Elaine Brown and Dr. Carl Mitchell?" Bright reminded him of a certain case. "Their drinks were spiked with LSD and they went nuts."

Gil nodded reluctantly. He didn't experience them firsthand, but he recalls both tried to kill Malcolm in their delusional state. "You say they were drugged with LSD?" He recaptured, walking up and down in his office. Malcolm shrugged his shoulders.

"I would be careful to settle any assumption, but for now? Yes, that is my closest call."

Gil marched to the window and peaked through the narrow slits. He heard all the noises, but seeing his people scream or laugh maniacally was a different story again.

"The effects are so multifaceted." He noted with a frown. Malcolm shrugged his shoulders with a light laugh.

"Only makes sense. The effects vary on the dose and the mental state of the consumer." He explained carefreely.

Gil shot him a concerned look, fearing what could happen with Malcolm and a high dose. His mental state was already wrecked enough without the enhancement.

"LSD is similar to the semiochemical serotonin and is therefore able to activate the serotonin receptors in our brain, which-"

"Kid..." Gil sighed and waved his hands dismissively. "Just, gimme the short gist of it, would ya."

Malcolm huffed annoyed and shook his head, nevertheless he obeyed the orders. They were short on time, even if this situation was literally made to rehearse his biochemical knowledge.

"Fine." He surrendered. "An acid trip influences the mental as the physical health. It's very hallucinatory and the effects go from 'super happy and euphoria' to 'heart-stopping terrifying delusions'. Of course, if large enough quantities are given. Physical side effects are for example nausea, dizziness, or cold sensations." Malcolm explained as short as possible. Gil nodded with every new information getting submitted.

"Are there any signs that indicate LSD, or something..." Gil stammered, Malcolm jumped in enthusiastically. He was barely to distinguish from Edrisa by now.

"Actually there is!" He affirmed. "Pulse, body temperature, and blood pressure rise extremely during the trip. Also, the pupils dilate."

Gil walked to the door and peeked through the narrow slits at the unconscious woman on the ground. "You checked her earlier, didn't you?" He brought up rhetorical, not taking his eyes from the police officer.

"She showed all the signs," Malcolm revealed sorrowfully.

Gil turned around, determination marking his stance. He needed to help his people. Drag them out of their forced trip.

"How long takes a trip?"

Malcolm blew raspberries as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Usually about 6 to 8 hours for the usage of 50 to 100 microgram." Bright elucidated. Gil shook his head.

"That's too long. Didn't you once say that pain is the only thing to wake them up from their trip?" Gil mentioned, his hopes getting up. Malcolm cringed at the statement.

"Well... temporarily maybe, it would be an option for emergencies." He explained cautiously, indicating that he would never recommend it actively. Unless you're held captive by a victim who is slowly trying to throw you off a roof.

"There is a sedative called Valium that can calm down horror-trips, so the best thing would be to call an ambulance and wait," Bright recommended calmly. The problem was, waiting in safety wasn't always a given.

The door opened quietly, they didn't notice the intruder immediately. Malcolm's eyes widened and he rushed to the woman. "Dani!" He called concerned.

"Malcolm, stop!" Gil warned him, just a little bit too late. Malcolm found himself at gunpoint by the last person he expected.

The click of another gun rung in his ears. His head spun around to see Gil pointing his weapon at Dani.

"Gil, stop that nonsense." Malcolm hissed. He couldn't believe Gil would ever raise his gun on his own people, regardless of the imminent danger they found themselves in.

"Drop the weapon." Gil snarled coldly at the detective, the authority radiating immensely from his appearance.

One look at Dani was enough to realize that she wasn't herself. She wasn't her own and whatever she saw wasn't the reality. Dani would never raise her weapon against innocents.

"I won't let you... I won't..." Dani muttered, her eyes disoriented shifting between Malcolm and Gil. She didn't even seem to notice Gil with his mighty weapon.

Malcolm carefully stretched his arm out as if he intended to tame a feral beast. "Hey, Dani... It's me, Malcolm." He cooed soothingly, ignoring Gil behind him. He once calmed down a hallucinating person, maybe he could succeed again. It wouldn't help completely, but they could disarm her at least so she wasn't an imminent threat anymore.

Dani made no signs of recognizing him. Her expression was desperate, she was frightened and lived a nightmare. "I will not... You cannot hurt him..." She muttered deliriously, her arms beginning to tremble.

Malcolm frowned confused, but maybe he figured out what Dani was experiencing. If he was right, he could use that to his advantage. If not, he'd better pray that he didn't waste her patience.

"Dani, drop the weapon!" Gil shouted enraged, the woman heavily flinching. For a moment Malcolm was certain to be dead.

"Shut up, Gil!" He hissed quietly, as not to startle his friend while the gun was still pointed in his direction. "I've got this." He spoke reassuringly, laying a nice tone over his previous outburst. He'd never imagined screaming at Gil to shut up. He wouldn't regret it, but he also would never want to dwell on that for too long.

He returned his attention to Dani, her whole body shivering by now. He knew why. She was back there. The night, snow, running for her life. It had terrified her to the core and she still hadn't fully recovered from that traumatic experience. JT was lucky that the drugs didn't inflect his emotional storm. He couldn't say the same for Dani.

"It's alright, Dani. _He_ isn't here." Malcolm spoke soothingly, glad to have her full attention. " _I'm_ here, it's me, Malcolm."

"He won't bother you anymore. He-" Malcolm flinched sharply when Dani readjusted her weapon fiercely.

"He has to die." She snarled furiously. Bright swallowed nervously, sweat breaking out on his temple.

"Don't worry." Malcolm continued, more uncomfortable. "He will receive the justice he deserves." He promised reassuringly. He smiled warmly at her. "But for now, it's just you and me." He pointed with his fingers at whatever person he mentioned.

He noticed with delight how her hands sunk down. He dared a step closer to her. "You're safe with me." One step closer, the tightness of her grip loosens. "I won't let him hurt you no more." He swore.

And for some reason, Dani believed him. A tear escaped her eyes and she inhaled slowly and deeply. She exhaled, a shy smile on her beautiful lips.

Malcolm breathed out relieved. He kept his gaze locked with her eyes, his hands slowly working towards disarming her.

A shot banged through the hall. Dani startled. Her arms shot up and she fired with an agonizing cry.

Malcolm stumbled back, gasping shocked. While he fell to the ground in slow motion, he watched Gil dashing towards Dani. He tackled her to the ground, kicking her weapon far away. He pointed his weapon at her to force her to subordination, forgetting that Dani didn't think rationally at all. Her arms lunged out, scratching Gil in the process.

He lost his weapon eventually, too. Dani was a feral animal that fought to survive with all of her powers. Meanwhile, Gil didn't want to hurt her, he fought to disable her. He hissed at the long scratch mark that covered half of his face. Dani used his weak moment to jump up and lunge at him.

Malcolm observed the fight, his eyes roaming his surroundings for clues. He jumped up and raced to the closet. He opened the doors to reveal the narrow space inside the furniture.

"Gil!" Malcolm called over.

Gil had his hands strapped around her wrists and battled to keep her at bay. He forgot how strong that woman was. He immediately understood and made steps backward, leaving Dani with the sense of winning.

When he was close enough to the closet, he spun around and threw her away. She bumped against the wood. Before her slender frame fell to the ground, Malcolm shut the doors. Just in time he blocked the exit with his back, Dani angrily hammering from the inside.

Certain not to hold on for long, Gil decided to help Malcolm out. He rushed to the nearby shelves and pushed one after another to Malcolm. Rapidly they blocked the closet with them, making it impossible for Dani to break out with pure violence.

Both men crossed their arms, observing their work on bunkering Dani.

"That woman's insanely crazy." Gil huffed breathless.

Malcolm nodded, with the same amount of breath. "Never doubted that."

They stood in silence for several seconds, watching Dani powering herself out with the door. Was it the best solution for her mental health? Definitely not. But was it their best shot at stopping her from hurting anyone? Probably.

"Wait" Gil perked up and scrutinized Malcolm. "She missed you?"

Only after Gil mentioned it Malcolm remembered the gunshot. His hands wandered over his body, searching for fresh a bullet wound.

"Lucky me, she really missed me." He noticed relieved. Gil laughed tiredly, glad his kid wasn't going to die for now. Another trip to the hospital really wasn't needed in their tense situation.

Hospital! Gil pulled his mobile and dialed the emergency number. He totally forgot about that.

"You didn't call for help?" Malcolm realized mildly outraged.

Gil glared at him reproachful. "When should I have called for help between Dani threatening to kill you and me fighting her off?" He snarked at him.

Malcolm shook his head with a light laugh. "Fine, point for you."

It was more amusing to hear Gil struggling to phrase how the whole police precinct went nuts after the usage of LSD. Not only once, but he also called over some cops on the street to help them out. The reaction of Gil when the other part didn't believe him was a show.

The background noise had become something they could handle. The terror marked itself deep in their bones, but Malcolm wasn't particularly scared with Gil by his side. After Dani's break-in, they had decided to lock themselves for good and wait for help. Gil had been eager to storm out and do something instead of sitting. Malcolm convinced him to stay, for their own safety.

So normally, nothing bad should happen anymore if everything went according to the plan. When Gil's phone started to ring, Malcolm instantly knew that their plan was screwed. It had been too easy till now, hadn't it?

Gil eyed the unknown number with concern. He sighed resigned and brought it up to his ear. "Lieutenant Arroyo." He introduced himself with a firm voice. Malcolm observed the scene nervously.

"Do you like your round so far, lieutenant?" The cheerful voice chirped carefreely. Gil wasn't surprised to hear their killer.

"I would've liked it more if you would've excluded my detectives and officers." He growled honestly, but that advice was already running too late.

"Oh, but where would be the fun in that?" Coleman giggled childlike. Gil rolled his eyes.

"Fun was never a thing to begin with." He deadpanned.

He brought some distance between ear and mobile when roaring laughter emerged from the other side. "Oh lieutenant! You're hilarious!" The Game Master exclaimed, even Malcolm heard how fake everything was. "You still need some time to notice that this will be by far the best game of them all." The man claimed proudly. Gil raised one eyebrow.

"Care to show me?"

A subtle smile emerged on the killer's face, Gil swore he could hear him smiling at him. Belittling him.

"You're so challenging. All of you. You never won one game, yet every single one believes they still have a chance. It's so dumb." Coleman hummed disgusted.

The words hit Gil in his gut. Did he really have no chance? All he cared for was to protect his people, why couldn't this game be just between Gil and Coleman?

"Says the one who doesn't even show himself." Gil spat in mockery despite Coleman's words.

"Oh I am here, lieutenant."

Gil was hit by surprise.

"I am waiting for you, here, in the same precinct." He confessed, but his surroundings were silent. Here at the office, there was constant noise from the lunatics screaming and laughing outside.

"You don't only have a badge, not just a title. You have authority, lieutenant." The killer continued after Gil failed to answer. "Your word is law, and you can rely on your people to follow your orders. I felt no greater joy than robbing you of all that control." Coleman elucidated happily. Gil could see him stretch out his arms and marvel at the destruction he had caused.

"This, my friend, is your personal Circus Halligalli."

Gil growled furiously, fuming with anger. "I will find you, and I will kill you." He snarled his promise.

"I want to see you trying." Coleman retorted.

Gil ended the call abruptly. He placed the phone back in his pocket, headed towards the door. Malcolm jumped back into life and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't, Gil. He's only taunting you." Malcolm explained. Gil withdrew his arm with more force than needed.

"Well, maybe he did. But this ends now." He declared determined. Bright shook his head.

"You'll be making a fool of yourself. He's probably not even here and you'll get hurt while searching-"

"Enough!" Gil snapped. Malcolm backed away, with big puppy eyes.

"I will face him. Alone." Gil stated. Malcolm cringed, breaking his head over how he could convince him to stay.

"Fine, but better wait for backup." He advised, using Gil's own words against him. Of course it didn't work on him.

"Malcolm. It's my decision. You have to tolerate it."

"No!" Malcolm blurted out. He was surprised by his own reaction, more than Gil probably. The man blinked perplexed, then his expression darkened.

"Well, that seems about right. You never needed drugs to disobey me." He hissed coldly. He regretted his words in an instant. Malcolm backed away from him, hurt.

Gil's attitude softened. He noticed it, too now. Coleman was driving them against each other. With every game, he tried to destroy them from the inside. He struck a painful point on Gil and now he was letting it out on Bright. The only person who was left sane with him.

Gil exhaled heavily. "I'm sorry Bright, I know you're right. It's just..." He stammered helplessly for words. Malcolm found back a forgiving smile.

"He really can get under your skin, hu?" He finished for him. Gil marked him right. Slowly he returned back to the inner of his office.

"So, you're not leaving?" Malcolm controlled hopefully.

Gil leaned against the desk and stroked the place for Malcolm to sit beside him. "I'm not." He assured peacefully.

Malcolm sighed relieved. It tasted like victory. With the third round he suspected both sides had lost, but now? It really was some sort of a first victory. With closing his eyes he exhaled a breath. He leaned against the table and rested his side to Gil. The man he loved and trusted like a father.

 _Click_.

Malcolm's eyes shot open. Getting lulled in by Gil's calm behavior, he stood no chance. Gil locked the handcuffs to the desk, while the other one was locked to Malcolm's wrist.

"Gil what the hell!" He exclaimed furiously. He tried to follow Gil, but the chain forbid him to go any further. His knees were forced to the ground.

"I'm sorry, kid, FBI agents usually can kick doors open." Gil reasoned and pulled out the keys from his office. Bright pulled with all his might, only then realizing the desk was fixated firmly to the ground.

"Get back!" He grunted, his wrist burning almost instantly. He had too much energy to settle with being chained to the desk while Gil was about to do something very stupid.

Gil sighed. "I'm sorry. But, I have to do it." He reasoned apologetically.

He turned around and opened the door. Malcolm stood up, but the cuffs were locked so low, he could never stand straight. He ignored that and stretched to his full height, which ended with him falling back on his knees.

"Gil!" He cried after his mentor.

The man shot him a pitiful look. "I'll be back soon." He promised and locked the door again.

The door fell shut, keys rattling. Malcolm's ears burned for Gil's and only his footsteps.

"Stay put!" He called before disappearing into the madness.

Malcolm crunched his teeth. "Yeah, no kidding!" He roared back and fought against the cuffs frustrated.

He lost the fight. Gil left him, running headfirst into danger. And Malcolm could do nothing but accept the way it was. He plumped down on his butt and sighed resigned. Burying his head in his palms, he really was near crying. He cast a hateful glance towards the cuffs.

Despite all the noise, cries, laughter, screams. Despite all of that, for the first time, it seemed to be quiet.

Dead quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gil and Malcolm against the rest of the world. Gotta love those two.


	19. Chapter 18

Malcolm spent a good while of his morning chained to his boss’s desk.

Sometimes, Dani decided to punch the closet again, which was wonderful. It reminded him that she was still alive. Other times, a mug crashed, or a shot was fired outside the office. Those moments were scary, they always startled him. A few times someone ran against the door or window, which was even more frightening. If one wacko would succeed in entering, Bright would be completely defenseless to them.

Yet he was fully able to understand why Gil still chained him. Malcolm really would've kicked the door down. It didn't need much strength, just the right tactic, and a bit of skill. And Bright had that, he had been one of the best special agents after all, just to flatter himself in this miserable time.

He pulled his arms into his lap for another round of examining these stupid handcuffs. The floor was getting cold and hard on his butt. There was nothing he could do about it anyway, so why bother?

When he was gonna get free, ugh, Gil had it coming. He would make his life a living hell for pulling off such a stupid stunt. It didn't even make sense, Coleman was probably 100% brains but zero muscles. _Probably_. The only way he dared to challenge Dani was to rid her of her weapons. What a lame move. Why would he challenge Gil all of a sudden?

It was a trap that couldn't be more obvious. Problem? Gil was already so desperate, he would actually try his luck with everything, even with something blunt like this. How frustrating.

Malcolm's head shot up at the sound of keys rustling. He listened to the sound of the keys while he waited patiently for the door to be opened. Bright smiled hopefully, trying to master a disappointed expression for Gil. Still, he was so happy that he managed to return, hopefully in one piece.

"Seriously Gil, that was one sick move you-"

Coleman entered the room, casually and relaxed as ever. Malcolm lost his words somewhere in his throat and proceeded to stare dumbfounded at the killer. Coleman's eyes fell on Malcolm's small appearance, immediately bursting out into carefree laughter.

"Well isn't that very unfortunate for you!"

Malcolm crunched his teeth and glared at the man. Bennett wiped a comical tear away and walked further into the room, ignoring the heavily bunkered closet at the side.

"I am a bit upset you were excluded from my surprise," Coleman admitted calmly. He went next to Malcolm and leaned on the very desk the profiler was chained to. Without any weapons, Bright swallowed the unbelievable anger of being defenseless as useless and remained put.

He raised one eyebrow though. "LSD? Seriously?" He deadpanned. Coleman smiled affectionately and looked down at Malcolm on the ground. He _hated_ it.

"Pretty simple, right?" He replied proudly. "It doesn't even cost that much in the dark web and now look at the disaster." The killer exclaimed joyfully.

Malcolm looked at the closed curtains, the noises easily coming through, especially since one window was broken. "It's so... disastrous." Bright replied unfazed.

"How much did you give them anyway?" Malcolm began to chat casually, hoping to keep him around until Gil returned. Or at least backup.

"I'm not so sure, lost a bit track of it. Should be somewhere over 150 micrograms." Coleman made himself more comfortable, his hands placed in the middle of the table. Bright shot him an incredulous glance.

"Are you nuts?! That is way too much, especially for their first time!" He exclaimed indignantly. Coleman just smiled at him.

"You seem to be very familiar with drugs." He noticed. Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"It's just basic knowledge." He objected confidently.

Coleman did think over that, eventually shaking his head. "It really isn't that common."

Malcolm exhaled heavily. "Well..." He started. "Trust me to know random facts."

Coleman chuckled at him. "You were a nerd in FBI school, admit it." He teased him brotherly. It didn't break Malcolm’s icy shell.

"I prefer the term smart." He countered back dignified. Bennett shrugged it off.

"Sure, whatever you say, nerd."

Malcolm huffed frustrated, dodging the other man’s eyes.

"So, how are you? Did recover well from the car crash?" Coleman asked suddenly. Bright glared at him offended.

"Why would you even care, you tried to kill me several times." He bit back, the other man just shrugging ignorantly.

"You _survived_ every single time, didn't you?" He replied chill.

Malcolm opened his mouth for a snarky remark but closed it again. Fear started to pulse through his veins. It began to dawn on him. Coleman was here for a certain reason. He teased it already. He was going to take him. If he would've just told his team, could they have changed anything? Maybe Gil wouldn't have left him. He really thought he could handle Coleman on his own. He wasn't that much different than Gil after all. They both were just idiots.

"What did you do with Gil?" Malcolm spoke up, the fight completely out of him. He ignored Coleman's concerned glances.

"Nothing, really. He's just wandering around, searching me, fighting off some crackheads." Bennett counted casually.

It didn't make much sense to Bright. Wasn't this round supposed to be about Gil? Why was Bennett here and Gil left clueless? Although, kidnapping Malcolm would surely leave a mark on Gil.

"What an exciting round." Malcolm huffed ironically. Coleman laughed heartily, he didn't seem so bad. If you ignored all his crimes, he really seemed like a pleasant person to chill with. On the other hand, even now he could be a manipulating piece of shit, so every second felt like hell.

"You may not see it yet, because this is only the beginning. It will be awesome, trust me." Coleman promised.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Thanks for those reassuring words." He huffed frustrated.

"No problem." Coleman shot back unbothered.

As the nervous tremor in his hands subsided, Malcolm dared a look at the clock on the wall. It was quickly getting far more uncomfortable with every second, turning into a long-stretched moment of awkward silence between the two of them.

"You know, we won't be alone any longer," Malcolm said, not even sure why he decided to say that. His goal was to make him stay so they could arrest him. This was practically the opposite.

"Yes," Coleman answered coolly. "What are you getting at?" He smirked down at him with a seducing smile. Malcolm smiled at him full of hatred.

"I'm merely inviting you to stay with me to the very end. I want you to say hi to my friends." He snarked at him. Coleman chuckled and participated in the game.

"If they are as high as your other friends, I'd rather pass." He sizzled poisoning.

Bright crunched his teeth to deal with the anger, his hands were already starting to shake again. Why did he have the ability to attract psychopaths, specifically serial killers? He must've gotten it from his mother, a curse he couldn't fight off.

Coleman rose up to his full height, startling Malcolm on the ground. "But you have a point. Our time is short-lived, although I do enjoy your presence so much." The man exclaimed, exaggerating the pleasure. Malcolm raised one eyebrow.

"I thought we were gonna have plenty of that?" He blurted out confused. He regretted his words almost instantly, but he really was puzzled by Coleman's behavior.

"Well, someone sure his impatient." Coleman grasped with amusement. He crouched down to his eye level. Before Bright could react his chin was firmly trapped between Bennett's fingers. "Though we have to be patient, my dear Malcolm. My damsel in distress." He purred, forcing Malcolm to stare into the cold and merciless eyes of the killer.

He leaned in closer, Malcolm backing away into the table. His breath began to hitch, his whole body screaming. Not only _his_ body. A loud 'thump' and a swear dragged Coleman's attention to the lively closet.

"Is that... Dani in there?" He stammered surprised. Malcolm tried to calm his breath down, swallowing down the forgotten spit.

"Y-yeah... she got really scary." He explained bluntly. "The drugs kind of made her a hulk-"

Coleman planted a quick kiss on Malcolm's cheek, disinterested regarding anything else. Bright's brain stopped working, too shocked about what just happened. He was being loved by killers, no news, but he wasn't used to _this_ kind of love.

Malcolm stared at Coleman in thunderstruck. The killer giggled harmlessly.

"Aren't you cute? I simply cannot wait any longer."

"I mean nothing to you." Malcolm blurted out bluntly. "People… mean nothing to you."

Coleman smiled knowingly at his words.

"That is correct. People distract from the real game. They make you weak." He explained, circling the desk Malcolm was chained to. He eyed him hungrily, from every given perspective.

"But you aren't like the norm, are you, Malcolm?" He added, Bright's head turning into his direction, afraid because he failed to see the predator. "You are like me. You really _do_ understand me, don’t you?"

Malcolm looked doubtingly to the ground. "Well..." He startled when Coleman leaned over his head.

"No shame in denying your gifts, Malcolm." He advised genuinely, but by now Malcolm was simply scared. The man was superior to him on so many levels. He realized how much he had underestimated this man. To catch a person like himself, he needed to scoop down to his own level. Fight fire with fire. Look into his soul.

And break it.

When the moment was right, Malcolm knew what he was destined to do it. He shouldn't deny his gifts. Probably the only thing that could lock this monster away for good.

"When the time is right..." Coleman whispered, one hand traveling caringly over Malcolm's cheek. Applying a little force, just to bend Malcolm’s compliant head to the side and expose his neck.

Malcolm's eyes widened, his mouth parting for a breathless gasp.

A quick sting, and cold liquid stormed into his system, immediately demanding control. Coleman injected the liquid skilled. He removed the needle, little drops of blood trickling down Bright's pale throat. His free hand reached up cautiously to the little wound. "What did you..." He slurred, his head hammering violently. Coleman appeared back into his eyesight, casually cleaning the empty syringe.

"Just a small present."

Malcolm's breath accelerated, his fingers fumbling at the wound panicked.

"I could give you the whole world. For now, it'll be just a generous amount of LSD, princess."

He turned his head around, looking hungrily at the frightened profiler. "Finally I've found a reason to win." He muttered, barely audible for Bright. He opened the door, the noise becoming louder in an instant.

"You will be my trophy." Those words echoed in Malcolm's brain, over and over. Never fully disappearing, never really ending.

And then he was alone. Just him, the pounding closet, and his wild hallucinations gradually becoming stronger.

Malcolm doesn’t recall a time he was this mortally terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really dreading the next chapter. I don't want to edit it. But I have to.  
> I don't want to spoiler too much for next time.   
> Thank you for reading, and all those lovely comments. It just needed to be said, you guys are awesome!


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning!**  
>  Hear me out, okay? This chapter contains stuff that may be a trigger for some people. I don't want to spoiler, but I am well aware that not everyone can read this unaffected. If you don't mind spoilers, and you know gruesome stuff upsets you, I wrote a more explicit warning which you can find in the end notes. There you can take a peek and decide for yourself if you want to read this.   
> Good luck.

The room was on fire.

Malcolm was sweating out of every pore, yet his body was possessed by a tremendous shiver. He was laying in a burning cold storage. His tongue felt fury, tasting sweet bile.

The room began to dance in just a few minutes since the injection with LSD. Malcolm wasn't surprised, he was familiar with the knowledge of how quick and strong the drug worked when injected as a liquid. He was aware of the immense danger he found himself in, but his brain refused to comprehend the smallest thing. He wasn't the lord of his own anymore.

When the colors kicked in, the nauseating swings rode down the rainbow and kicked into his gut. Malcolm curled into himself in pain, laying his forehead on the cooling ground. He moaned into the little salvation he was granted.

He didn't understand why people would give themselves these drugs consensually. In small batches and prepared settings it sure could be a quite pleasant experience. Under the circumstances Malcolm experienced LSD, it was no surprise that it would aim after his nightmares and double that.

He tried to ignore this thought, internally begging it wouldn't come this far. The voice sizzling into his ear proved his luck to be non-existent.

"Malcolm. My boy."

Malcolm forced his eyes open to narrow slits. He was still in Gil's office, that's good. It was still obvious nothing of this was real. Just the hallucinations starting. His father was in Claremont. Locked behind bars.

Tiredly Bright forced himself back up, starting with his upper body. His resolution to ignore the blurry and distorted hallucination foundered before he could declare it. He glared hateful daggers into the appearance.

"Malcolm, you don't look so good," The doctor spoke caringly, almost sounding genuinely concerned. Bright huffed at him disgusted.

"You don't say." He snarked disparagingly. He didn't like how the illusion became clearer every passing moment, while the background of Gil's office was barely able to recognize anymore.

"Maybe you want a hot cocoa to sleep over that bad fever," Martin suggested, nearing the downed profiler.

Malcolm wasn't afraid. He laughed at the illusion while shaking his head. "I do _not_ need a hot chocolate, and this isn't a fever." He spat, his exhausted body falling down, his back meeting with the hard wood of Gil's desk. He enjoyed the solid support for a moment, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

When he opened his eyes next, he was in his childhood room. The little machine projected stars on every wall, a warm small lamp next to his bed lightening up most of this place. He wasn't leaning at Gil's desk. He was in comfy PJs, tucked in his bed leaning to the wall behind him.

Martin placed the mug on the small bed table, next to the lamp. He leaned forward, his hand gently testing Malcolm's forehead. "That sure is high temperature." He commented worried, quickly exchanging the expression with a kind smile. "Nothing that can't be fixed."

Under normal circumstances, Malcolm would've never allowed so much contact between the two of them. He would slap his hand away and step back behind the red line. Only that there wasn't a red line. And Malcolm's muscles refused to respond to his demands.

He was bone tired and ill. His face was constantly trapped in a pained grimace and he winced against the creeping nausea. He wanted this to stop and grant him some peace. And somehow, his father possessed little fragments of this peace. He offered it in small gestures, placing his cooling hand on Malcolm's burning forehead. Wiping away the hot tears from his salty cheek.

Malcolm felt safe. He felt loved. "Don't worry my boy. It will be better." His father assured him soothingly, stroking his wet cheek affectionately. Malcolm found himself leaning into the touch, craving for fatherly love. He opened his eyes, relieved to be greeted by his father's kind and gentle smile, not the monster he really was under all these layers.

"Everything will be fine." Martin cooed, his hands disappearing behind his back. Malcolm's eyes fluttered, fighting against the warm sleep, luring him into a sweet dream. "You just need to take deep breaths..."

Malcolm's eyes tore open in panic, his air supply cut off all of a sudden. His limbs thrashed wildly, but Martin had him firmly pinned down on the hard mattress. A strong sweet smell infiltrated his nose, penetrating his senses. Refusing to breathe into the cloth meant to slowly suffocate into unconsciousness, in which state he would be forced to take in the drug. His head winded away to the sides, but he never managed to free himself of Martin's strong hand clamped around his mouth.

Black dots danced before his eyes. His muscles lost energy. The unfair fight was slowly coming to an end. Guiding him in into an inevitable defeat. Before his very eyes, he stared into those predatory orbs, underneath it a maniac grin baring all teeth.

This was his father. A monster.

With a wince he lost the fight, settling into heavy darkness. A mist clouding his mind. He was left all alone with nothing.

Until he wasn't.

Light returned with a bang. Scratching his sensitive eyeballs to a burning point. He took deep and quick breaths of the stiffy air, his chest rising up and down. His back was still hurting. A glance to the side revealed he wasn't any longer in his childhood room. He wasn't in his bed. His father wasn't here. No one was. His eyes roamed the room, painfully recognizing his surroundings.

He was still at home. Just underneath it.

Just as his eyes scanned the room for another round, they stopped glued to a dark silhouette. It was pitch black.

Malcolm heard his breaths, they were louder than anything. He feared to attract the unknown slender person, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing of this was in his control. He was the only audience of this terrifying theater.

The head of the silhouette snapped around with a sickening crack, dark greasy hair swinging towards him. Malcolm gasped scared, urging his body to move, back away, damn at least do something!

He remained still, observing the snake-like hair sizzling into all sides. The woman was barefoot, it didn't take long for him to notice that. The uncomfortable tapping sound of naked feet echoed in his ears, sometimes louder, sometimes barely audible. He was forced to stare at the figure, or else he could never predict her arrival.

Tears slipped out, traveling down Malcolm's temple and tickling his ear. "Why...?" He gasped speechless, his voice cracked and weak. "Why are you doing this?"

The footsteps didn't stop, proceeding to ignore his silent begs. Only when the woman was standing directly above him the world drowned in silence. Dark hateful eyes embraced by black and broken hair burnt into his body. Reproachful eyes.

"You really ask _why_?" The female voice snickered, appearing more alive than Malcolm ever felt. The woman, Malcolm was very familiar with, crouched down. His breathing pace quickening up. The long hairs already tickled his bare skin on his face, sick shivers running down his whole body.

"You think it's unfair I chose to hunt you instead of him?" She hummed, hate dripping down from every word said.

Malcolm winced, the black snakes attached to her hair crawling on his body, one attempting to disappear under his clothes. A thin tongue explored his ear. He whimpered, but he was simply paralyzed to turn away.

"I was tortured to death. And now _I'm_ supposed to be the monster?" Her voice again, coming from the snake in his ear.

Malcolm took a shallow breath, hopelessly turning into a sob. "No..." He croaked with the most power he could gather around, which wasn’t much. The woman, no, the girl in the box ignored him.

"Have you ever considered yourself guilty, Malcolm?" She hissed down on him. Malcolm noticed that she didn't possess a mouth or lips. Her face was just a big black dote, excluding the bright eyes piercing into his own.

"Always..." Malcolm replied weakly. He meant it, yet it tasted bitter like a lie.

"Of course you didn't." The girl snickered, disappointed but not surprised. "Weren't you just a little and innocent child? That's what they all keep saying, don't they?"

Malcolm stared into her eyes, not answering to that. His brain seemed empty. There was a convey belt in his brain, delivering the words he needed to say. He received nothing for now.

"They say that and ignore how much I suffered. Because of _your_ family." She spat, literally. It landed on his cheek, slowly getting pulled down by gravity.

"Look at you. You aren't better than him. You are the same. You can't live between them and actually believe they will trust you forever. You belong locked away. Or dead. Either way will be for the best. For everyone."

Tears streamed down like a waterfall. Malcolm whimpered, wailing like a child. This was too much, it needed to stop, just stop.

Claws stung into his arms. He tore his eyes open, forced to look into the unnatural grin. As she crept nearer to him to the ground, more and more details were revealed. Her deranged body was covered in gashes and never fully healed wounds. Her skin color was putrefaction, sickly green-blue. Worms and maggots fed on her decomposed body, their little heads disappearing in her skin. They wiggled so lively, hungry and unbothered. Malcolm's hyperventilating body fought hard not to gag. The woman's nails were black and simply fell off, landing on his unmoving body.

The girl in the box grinned at him mockingly. She widened her mouth, throwing up on his body, the dark vomit filled with maggots. Some teeth were dragged out as fell, falling against his body and landing on the ground. They clanged like hollow coins.

The vomit was warm on his body. And very much alive. The maggots began to crawl on his body. When they found their destined place, they bit into his skin, chew his flesh, digging deeper. The bile churned in his throat, unable to escape. The same with his building-up scream. It was locked behind bars, his whole mind focusing on the sensation of these worms wiggling under his skin, chewing off flesh bit by bit.

The woman observed his appalled facial expression. She threw her head into her neck, roaring laughter screeching out of her deceased body. She enjoyed every bit of it, Malcolm's displeasure feeding her mischievousness.

Her head focused back on him, her neck crunching and cracking by that motion. A maggot from her face fell down, landing on Malcolm's face. He tensed up even more. The unbothered monster immediately began to enjoy his living skin, biting its way down to his luscious flesh. His hyperventilation was close to reaching his point, his breathing going ragged and uncontrolled.

"Why so disgusted, my child?" She wondered innocently. Malcolm frowned, repeating the word child in his head, desperately trying to ignore his decaying body. Her head tilted, transparent eyes locking themselves with his own. Malcolm narrowed his eyes, focusing on the silhouette in her eyes. There was more than spiteful emptiness. He saw something. Something laying motionless.

The girl in the box chuckled gloatingly. "Weren't you supposed to be dead as well?" The wet mockery dropped down on his eyes, washing away the scales from his eyes. He looked into a mirror. He looked at his own decomposed body.

Only that he was a little child, embedded and forgotten in the dirty forest.

Murdered, by his own father.

"Noooo!"

Malcolm clenched his eyes shut and screamed. He screamed his lungs sore. He screamed until the maggots disappeared. Or his flesh. He continued screaming and crying with full force. He screamed louder than her laughter. He screamed and screamed and screamed.

Normally his nightmares would end at this point.

His horror trip had just begun.

His eyelids jumped up spontaneously, bright eyes immediately scanning his surroundings. First, everything was burning white, but with everlasting minutes his vision cleared. Also did his body wake up, receiving several alerts on how cold it was.

Malcolm embraced his upper body with his arms, shivering while his teeth clattered. Outlines of trees were confirmed by the time, wherever he looked. He was in a forest, obviously. The previous events had been forgotten, Malcolm did not remember how he landed here in the first place, he remembered nothing. His mind was blank. Still, the horror from before was yet anchored in his bones. He expected nothing good from this place either.

Malcolm was always encouraged to be an optimist. His mother always scolded him when she found him scowling in doubt. _"Your skin will age faster!"_ That was the fear encouraging _her_ to stay happy on the outside.

Malcolm had found other motivations to build up an optimistic mask. People stopped worrying about him. People began hating him for his unwanted cheerful attitude. He built himself a big fat wall around the world, tricking people into avoiding him in the first place. It really wasn't that hard.

The happier his optimistic mask sparkled, the more broken he was inside. He lied when he expressed hope. Internally, he never believed that anything good might happen. Which truly had its advantages. Either he was always right, or pleasantly surprised.

Malcolm didn't manage to force up a smile this time. He couldn't force up the optimistic side of him that could help him get through this. He never had it in the first place.

He lifted his hand, confused to find a knife in his hand. Shocked he realized it was his knife, the one his father gave him. He wouldn't be surprised if everything would go downstairs at this point. He told himself, that way he wouldn't get his hopes up just to get shattered. He knew his hopes were long forgotten and decayed in one corner of his mind.

A strong wind battered against his front, biting the bare skin on his face. It brought soft and greasy words to him, whispering _"Monster"_ into his ear. Malcolm sighed, fighting against the strong wind that could throw him away any second. Well, at least he was right. A very positive thing to say.

His head raised from the safety of his arms when the wind calmed down. Between the trees, he saw him. He was there. For one second he smiled at him smugly. His hands in his pockets, barely clothed for this winter weather. But he had looked relaxed, comfortable. Malcolm blinked perplexed. The figure of his father was gone, the place between the two trees empty.

_They're after you..._

Malcolm acknowledged the voice in his gut, his breathing panicking. His head snapped around, scanning the area for anything. The knife in his hand began to burn. He looked down. He held it wrong, the metal was slicing into his palm. He opened his clenched fist. He was about to turn around the knife, ignoring the new flaring pain. He frowned at the inscription on the blade.

_Run._

"Hello, son."

Malcolm jumped around, feeling the breath on his neck. He lashed out with the knife, effortlessly hitting the air. No one was there. He was alone.

"Feeling a little paranoid?" Again he jumped to the other side, barely getting a glimpse of his father leaning against a tree. The next time he opened his eyes the man had vanished.

"Wha- What do you want?" Malcolm gasped breathless, spinning around nervously, scared to leave his back unwatched. Insecure.

He received laughter as an answer, tensing up and clenching his knife tighter in both of his hands.

"Is it wrong for me to spend some time with my only son, mh?" The voice hummed, Malcolm unable to detect the source.

He took deep breaths to calm himself down. "This is wrong, this is not real." He rambled in a low mutter. It couldn't calm him down.

He heard a creak above him, snow falling down and landing on his nose. He observed the coldly manifested liquid before his neck snapped up. Martin laid on his stomach on the branch, his head resting on his arms while observing Malcolm with a manic expression.

Malcolm shrieked, stumbling over his feet and crashing to the ground. He winced at the impact with a root. Instead of disappearing like earlier, Martin began to grin, his eyes wide open and red. Bright couldn't get his eyes away, taking in the disturbing scene and burning it into his newest memories.

The man's throat began to grow, like a snake wriggling down to Malcolm's pale eyes while the rest of the man's body stayed on the branch.

"Ah~! It's so good to look into a mirror once in a while." The doctor giggled with an unmoving expression.

Malcolm tensed up. In the reflection of his father's eyes, he only found... his father? Leaning on the ground. Frightened, a knife in his hand.

The white eye splashed red, Malcolm's knife piercing into the fragile substance and killing the reflection. Blood mixed with black bile dripped down like a waterfall on Malcolm.

"What are you waiting for? Rip it down!" The man screamed at Malcolm, unbothered by the knife in his eye or the immense blood lust. Malcolm didn't hesitate. He had no control over his body.

His hand moved down drastically, the knife clawing onto the skin and ripping everything away. What was left was a shredded muscle mass on the old man's face. Instead of howling in the pain, his grin became even wider, gushing blood out of the bare flesh. His roaring laughter deafened Malcolm.

After one blink, everything was gone. Only splashes of blood marked his face artfully. The knife was still tainted. Malcolm breathed heavily, jumping back on his feet and stumbling in the snow for balance. He fell steps back, acknowledging the crimson letters on the innocent white snow.

"Malcolm-" He read his name out loud, stopping for the next word. It said _Whitley._ Malcolm Whitley. He killed that man to become the man he was today.

The letters soaked into the ground, disappeared. What was left behind, crimson red snow. Malcolm looked at his boots, they were covered in that red snow. Panicked he began to wipe it away. The snow was glued stubbornly to his clothes. He stopped in his work when it began to snow. It snowed red. Soaking him in his birth name.

"Did you really think you'd just change?" The voice snickered maliciously. Malcolm didn't turn around to face the man.

" _Bright_. The name's ridiculous." Martin scoffed.

Malcolm huffed offended and bravely turned around to face the horrific creature with the face of his father.

Instead, it _was_ his father. Standing calmly opposite of him. Except for the big scar, starting from his left black eyehole down to his chin, all over his face.

"You can't change who you are, Malcolm." Martin Whitley stated coldly. Malcolm stared through the red snowy wall to his father.

"Never had to." He replied coolly. "I was never like you."

Martin began to laugh, bending his back behind and roaring his enjoyment into the forest.

"You're still in denial?" He asked rhetorically, wiping away black tears. "The funny thing about truths is, that they are facts. Solid facts. You can ignore them, run away, or deny them for how long you want. But-" Martin raised his index. "-they will always remain the same. Always."

Malcolm backed away, scared. "You're a liar." He remembered, still unconvinced of that fact.

"So? Apparently you, too, so no finger-pointing at me!" His father snickered mockingly. His expression changed in the break of a second.

"Stop lying Malcolm!" He roared enraged, his red head defaced to a grimace. Malcolm stumbled back like a scared puppy. He bumped against a warm body. Horrified he turned around.

"Gil?" He breathed surprised, tears building up in his eyes. His body lunged forward for a hug to taste the safety. His arms fumbled empty air. He opened his eyes confused, seeing how Gil had taken a step away from Malcolm. He stared down on him with hateful eyes, disgust, and… Disappointment.

"I expected better of you." He deadpanned coldly, scrutinizing the other one's body, covered from head to toe in blood, from that red snow.

Malcolm frowned, panicked sadness pumping through his body. He parted his lips, moving to the sync of a confused 'What?'

Gil didn't hesitate to turn away, showing the kid his back. The scrunches of Gil's shoes in the white snow echoed scratchily in his ears. His head fell down, eyes drowning into crimson red snow, only surrounding him.

"And come to think I _trusted_ you." Dani's voice spat behind him. His head snapped around, not believing if he didn't see for himself. He saw her reproachful eyes before there was only her neglecting back.

"Dani-" Malcolm stretched out his hand to her, but his legs refused to follow orders. They hurt as if he was standing in icy cold water. They were burning to get limp. He looked down, studying how red ice spiked into his legs, through the fabric into his skin. Extending. Crawling up higher.

"That was so obvious." JT snorted, dragging his attention back up. The man shook his head disapprovingly, following Dani and Gil. Marching through the white snow away from him.

The ice reached his torso, freezing his sensitive stomach. His mind blacked out for a second or two, overwhelmed by the pain.

"We aren't like him, mother." Malcolm gasped, fighting his eyelids to open up. His sister Ainsley observed him concerned. But not for his well-being. She was afraid of him. His mother Jessica stood right beside her. Her eyes were cold and merciless. He failed to find love in them. It was the same look she gave his father.

"No. He never really fitted in anyway." She deadpanned heartlessly. She turned around. There was a great distance between them, yet Malcolm felt the slap of her long hair on his cheek. Ainsley cast him one last glance before she followed her mother.

By now the ice had reached Malcolm's throat. He extended his neck, gasping for air like he was drowning. The coldness was unbearable, but not as worse as everyone he cared for abandoning him. He fought the upcoming tears, giving into the inescapable defeat.

The red ice began to scratch his chin. With his neck fully covered it became impossible to move at all. When he would close his eyes, he would give up indefinitely. He would endorse for his death. And maybe this wouldn't be even the worst option. For everyone.

He closed his eyes. At the same time, a pair of arms snaked around his torso from behind his back. The ice began to melt, bathing him in warm blood. A stiffy breath caressed his neck. Despite the warmth, Malcolm shuddered.

"It's okay, my boy. I know this feeling very well." His father soothed him caringly. "We still have each other." He brought up encouragingly. Malcolm enjoyed it for a second. The feeling of not being alone.

Until he realized he didn't need to belong. He had been alone for a long time during the FBI. It wasn't necessary to be with loved ones to survive. His options weren't minimized to him and his father. He'd rather choose to be alone if it meant doing the right thing.

He walked out of the embrace, stubbornly leaving his father like his family had left him.

"What are you doing Malcolm?" Martin asked irritated, the subtle sound of threatening in his voice.

"The right thing," Malcolm replied determined. He squinted, beginning to see the back of his family in the distance. He could reach them, live up to their standards, all by doing the right thing.

"Don't make yourself regret this." His father snarled behind his back. Malcolm didn't even give him one look. His eyes were glued to his goal. He marched through the red snow, gradually losing the color, and returning to an innocent white.

"Fine. You want to play, Malcolm? Then let's play."

Malcolm's head snapped around, the mixture of his father and Coleman freaking him out. No one was behind him. He breathed panicked. Not again.

The knife in his palm began to sting again. The blade was covered by every inch with one word.

_Run_.

This time he treasured that advice and began to sprint. Where to, he was still unsure. The main point was that he could get away from here. It couldn't be too late.

He bumped into a screaming person, sending him sprawled on the ground. Panicked he scrambled himself up. When his upper body was up, his vision became reduced to a horrifying grimace screaming at him in agony. Malcolm returned the cry, stumbling back on his butt. He noticed the stranger's wrist, missing a hand. The blood poured out like a waterfall while the naked man cried at him. Malcolm wasted no second to jump up.

He abandoned Nico in the red snow and moved on. Telling himself this wasn't real didn't help too much. He had already forgotten what reality was. He didn't remember what else there was other than this hell. It is sad, how this world slowly had become a reality he couldn't deny.

His feet buried into the ground to a spontaneous halt. This was wrong, this was just wrong.

Trapped in trance his body followed the small trail, slowly leading him to his arch enemy.

The box.

He crept nearer, his pulse racing and his breath hyperventilating. Cautiously he peeked over to the box, of course it was shut. His hand reached for the lid. Internally he scolded himself not to open it, to keep running and leave it behind. His body ignored him.

The lid jumped open, revealing the jammed body of a young woman. Her breathing ragged loudly. It was the only noise filling his ears. Not even his internal voice screeching for him to remember what will happen afterward reached him.

The strong hand with the chloroform didn't appear this time though. He crouched down to the girl in the box. The feeling was unfamiliar, surreal even. He never made it this far. Now he was so near. So near to her. He could _smell_ her. Could he also feel her?

His arm stretched out for his hand to reach her _._ A rough hand gripped his throat before he could get this far. It wasn't from behind, it wasn't his father's hand. It came from the girl in the box. Out of the trunk, her body shot up, carrying the deranged face of the junkyard killer.

"Was about time you let me out, kid." He snarled with amusement, tightening his grip around Malcolm's throat. His hand rose up, nails digging in to free himself. It was like fighting off a brick. Watkins tilted his head, wearing a deranged grin under his murderous eyes.

"So you don't forget..." He sizzled, but Malcolm already knew what that meant. He remembered the knife in his hand and lashed out, knocking the sword out of Watkin's hand before it could dig into Malcolm's abdomen. Mindlessly he lashed out, striking one, two, three times. He didn't count how often. He struck until his throat was released and he could jump away from the box, panting with his hands on his knees.

"Malcolm?" The sweet and wonderful voice of Eve, stirring him up from his bad dream. He looked up, still breathless. She studied him concerned, frightened. Her hand was covering her throat. The blood gushed out between her fingers, dropping down to the snow. It began to dawn on him what his uncontrolled movements had caused.

"Eve?" He muttered shocked. He dashed forward when her legs gave up on her and she sunk to the ground. Her eyes weren't focused as she slowly dove into her own death. Into the box.

"Eve, no, no!" He rambled, over and over like a mantra. She didn't acknowledge him while she was dying in his arms. She didn't notice Malcolm burying his head in her chest, crying, and whimpering uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, careful, for these words only were meant for her and no one else. He didn't back away when her beautiful smell was exchanged with that of putrefaction. He forced himself to endure it. It was his fault.

"Malcolm..." Eve rattled all of a sudden. Malcolm widened his eyes and lifted his head. He held the green-bluish corpse in his arms. She didn't look like she died from his knife, rather from drowning in a cold lake.

Her cold bony fingers reached up to his cheek. He tensed up, close to jumping up and back away. This feeling intensified when he looked at Eve and didn't recognize her. She looked the same, and yet Malcolm was unfamiliar with her appearance.

"Find me..." The rough voice muttered emotionless. This wasn't Eve. The corpse slipped out of his arms, disappearing into the box with a dull noise. This wasn't his Eve. Malcolm fell steps back, away from the corpse. Not his Eve.

"Find me..." The voice began to repeat itself in his brain, over and over again. Never really disappearing.

A hand gripped his shoulder tightly. Malcolm spun around, crying out in fear. The chase, he totally forgot about that. He expected to find his revengeful father, ready to make his life even more of a living hell.

He looked into his own eyes. His own cold and murderous eyes.

"You?" He spluttered out confused. The mirror image studied him amused.

"Why so surprised?" He chuckled smugly. His finger reached out to Malcolm, lifting his hand which was covered in Eve's blood. With a diabolical grin, he sucked the blood of one of Malcolm's fingers, humming in pleasure. Malcolm’s body was limp, observing how his other self acted without comprehension.

The slender man, who also listened to the name Malcolm, began to circle him. He scrutinized him, how he was covered from head to toe in blood. From every event so far.

"That's more like it." He commented approvingly. "Blood suits you."

Malcolm's head turned to the side to observe himself disappearing behind his back.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He grumbled, his head moving to the other side, not letting his eyes off the horror reflection of himself.

"Nothing." The other Malcolm shrugged, a wide grin decorating his mask. "It's just more honest. Shows the real you."

Malcolm, the profiler, shook his head determined.

The illusion raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh. Is that so?"

With one snap of his fingers the surrounding changed, teleporting them to the blurry outlines of a warehouse. Corpses laid around them. Their guns were still in their hands, the rest of their bodies rested motionless on the ground. Dead.

"I didn't kill them." Malcolm objected before anyone could say something. His mirror giggled maliciously.

"I haven't said anything yet." He noted. Malcolm narrowed his eyes to slits.

"But you were going to. This isn't new to me. They pulled the trigger themselves." He stated strongly, determined to believe himself.

"Oh right." The other Malcolm huffed exaggerated. "You only guided them to their death. I guess that is far better. Feeling moral already?" He exclaimed mockingly, smugness in his eyes. Malcolm opened his mouth, closed it when he didn't know what to reply in his defense.

"You tried to save your own ass. Nothing wrong with that." The reflection mentioned kindly. Malcolm shuddered, he didn't want _this_ sympathy. "You know, an anti-hero is still a hero, somehow."

Malcolm turned around sharply. His mirror stopped confused. Surprised how quick he could infuriate the real thing.

"Just..." Malcolm started but didn't know what else to say. He noticed he was gradually losing the battle with himself. He had always been his greatest enemy after all. "They're not even all dead." He sighed, not seeing how it was better he only killed two men than four. It was getting constantly harder not to drown in the guilt created by his once made decisions.

"You're right." The other Malcolm noticed bluntly. He walked over to the only woman, who was about to stir up into life, casually picking up a discarded gun on the way there.

Bang.

Malcolm took a sharp breath, his eyes widening in shock.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The gun in Malcolm's hand sunk down, the smoke fuming out of the pistol. With cold eyes he looked down at the criminals, each sharing a small red hole between their eyes.

He turned around to face the real one. He was shaking tremendously, tears pouring down his cheek and over his hands covering his mouth. The mirror image walked up to him, unimpressed. Malcolm's eyes wandered over each body, bile crawling up his throat. Many questions stormed through his brain, but when he opened his mouth, there was only one thing he managed to croak.

"Who are you..."

The reflection acknowledged the words, a diabolical malicious grin finding his face. The insanity of his eyes wasn't realistic, this whole scenery wasn't. Yet Malcolm believed it with all of his being. There was no other world than this. This monster in front of him was real. So was the answer. There was no denying it anymore.

"I am you."

Malcolm slowly stepped back, his foot sinking into the snow. The warehouse was gone, the biting cold returned with a strong wind. Looking around him he realized, the corpses remained.

"We always have been." He said with the same voice. For each step Malcolm made backward he came one step nearer, killing the distance. Malcolm's hair embraced his face, the wind pushing against his back. He failed to make one step away from himself. The other one didn't.

Their noses were almost touching. They shared the same eye level, looking at each other.

"We're the same," Malcolm stated, his hand rushing forward with a knife in his hand. Without his consent Malcolm's hand acted on its own, ramming his knife into his reflection's gut. The exact time his own abdomen got penetrated by a knife as well.

Malcolm gasped in the familiar pain, bending forward. His reflection went limp, falling onto Malcolm and through him. He was gone, leaving Malcolm alone with his hands holding the knife into his own gut. His knees gave up, sending him down to the ground. He panted, silently whimpering at the pain. He pulled out the knife, staring at the familiar outlines. It was his knife. The one his father bought him.

"Malcolm..." He ignored the broken voice. His body trembled, his hands shaking tremendously. It wasn't because of the temperature.

"Malcolm..." Another voice. The snow was crunching, someone dragging himself through it.

Malcolm shut his eyes tightly, abandoning the external noises, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Stop, please stop." He begged, whining weakly.

"Malcolm..." Gil's voice sounded. Malcolm's eyes snapped open, greeted into a world of agony. Corpses, countless decaying corpses crawled into his direction through crimson red snow. He recognized too many people. A lot of victims from his cases, Jeff's crew, his colleagues, and the female part of his family.

They were all dead.

"Murderer..." They all chorused equally, repeating the word like a mantra. Malcolm was reaching the peak, his final breaking point. He snatched the abandoned knife in the snow and positioned it in his hands.

"Murderer...!" Right on cue, he rammed the knife into his gut, screaming over the familiar voices.

They were louder.

He cried in anguish, ramming the knife over and over into his abdomen. The pain intensified, torturing him along with the voices. But the life in him didn't escape. He pierced in deeper, striking stronger. He didn't die.

Cold bony fingers pierced into his skin, on his shoulder, thighs, abdomen. Everywhere the dead fingers penetrated his body, dragging their deceased bodies to him.

"Murderer..." They whispered into his ear. Malcolm threw away the useless knife and dropped to the ground, the corpses burying him beneath them.

"Murderer..." They muttered into his ear. Malcolm's forehead dug into the snow, his last attempt at shutting out the voices by protecting his ears with his palms. The weight on his back intensified, crushing him mercilessly. The voices became louder despite his efforts. Their emotionless whispers turned into mournful cries. Malcolm shook his head, red tears marking his cheek.

And then he broke.

Malcolm released an agonizing scream. A scream that would never end. He screamed his lungs out, blood dripping out of his mouth. Nevertheless he continued to roar out his breaking point. Internally he was a mess, begging for this to end.

He had yet hours to spend in this hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning tags:  
>  **Explicit death descriptions**  
>  **Maggots on alive body**  
>  **Deformed bodies**   
> **Manipulation**  
>  **Blood and Gore**  
>  **Strong Hallucinations**  
>  Alrighty, I made a note of everything I think needs to be mentioned. It's okay if you decide to skip this chapter. I, for myself, nearly threw up writing the maggot part (Now I feel basically numb after reading it multiple times). It's also possible to understand the story without this chapter. The gist is, Malcolm is experiencing an awful LSD trip. You have no idea how much I learned about LSD because of this. My Google history is tainted for life.  
> So yeah, halftime! Hope you're all doing well!


	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would've come out 3 days earlier if it weren't for life constantly interrupting. Enjoy!

Gil stood in the hospital yet again, hands buried in his pockets. He lifted his hands to catch the little cough, afterward returning to the position.

This day was already coming to its end. He felt like they had achieved nothing in the meantime. Most of his employees had spent the night at this hospital, recovering from the immense acid trip. Most of them had already left. Those who weren't affected too much returned to in extreme cases.

He was relieved the men and women understood the urgency and went back to work instead of taking their deserved days of absence. After the office incident, they lost too many employees with one fell swoop, given all of them were poisoned with LSD. All of them, except Gil.

Luckily, the majority wasn't hurt badly. Okay, maybe they were, but there was not a single death. Not even the guy who jumped out of the window. Although, he was currently in a coma and it was uncertain if he could ever walk again.

Gil sighed heavily, shook his head. There was nothing to be done about it. This particular attack from the Game Master had been rough, there was no denying it. He struck them badly and the recovery would take time. When Gil proceeded to stare into the silent room, studying the limp form on the bed, he doubted some wounds could ever heal.

Malcolm did not take the acid trip well. He was strong, he proved that every day he survived with his awful traumas. This strongness had been his greatest weakness during the battle against the acid trip.

Gil had arrived too late. He returned to his office with Malcolm laying on the floor, his breath wheezing and his eyes unfocused. His forehead had been burning hot, nevertheless his whole body had shivered. Any attempt to get his attention had been fruitless. Malcolm had been completely unresponsive to the real world. He was trapped inside his mind, his greatest fear as far as Gil was concerned.

_xXx_

_Gil’s hands were tormented by a constant tremor while trying to release Malcolm from the cuffs. His own cuffs, Gil had resorted to the cuffs he usually used on criminals. He had used them on his own kid._

_He swore violently under his breath, cursing the roots of all evil, Coleman, knowing very well he deserved half of it. How was he any better? After everything he had done to his Malcolm?_

_Speaking of, Bright flinched under his touch, trying to pull away the moment the cuffs let go of him. That’s when Gil saw it, due to a lucky accident resulting by Bright turning his head and therefore exposing his neck._

_An injection mark. Coleman had injected a liquid into Malcolm in his defenseless state. A liquid that might’ve well been LSD. Not that Gil was familiar with the procedure of the certain drug, but just like Malcolm said “With drugs, everything is possible”._

_The obvious question floating in the office remained, how grave could be the effects on a fragile mind, like Malcolm’s, where there’s more trauma than happiness?_

_Looking at Malcolm, the answer didn’t fit to his liking._

_xXx_

Malcolm had screamed a lot during his trip, lashing out desperately and accidentally striking or slapping Gil while he’s at it. Other times, he had scooted away from the only sane person until his back pressed painfully tight into the wall. His eyes indicated that he never had been really there. While his body had been very much present, his mind was everywhere else, just not in Gil’s office.

Gil had realized, freeing Malcolm of his cuffs probably hadn't been his smartest idea. Malcolm had moved a lot during his drugged time, trying to escape whenever Gil neared him. Sometimes though, all he had done was to duck from Gil and cry uncontrollably, silently begging for it to stop. It broke Gil's heart in so many ways.

_xXx_

_“Don't... don't leave me...”_

_Gil’s head snapped up and at Malcolm. The kid was his constant worry, especially since he considered all of this his fault. It should never have come this far if he would’ve kept his cool, or actually listened to Malcolm instead of running blindly into a time-wasting trap. True, Bright’s know-it-all manner could be annoying and get into one’s head. Gil fully understood how his former bosses must’ve snapped under his personality. The truth is, no matter how annoying he is, he’s right. So usually, listening to Bright is only an improvement hidden in a critique._

_“Kid?” Gil chimed worried, slowly nearing the drugged person careful not to disturb him any further. The thing is, Gil wasn’t even sure Malcolm was aware of his presence in the first place._

_It happened all in a flash, Malcolm was up and ready bolting for the door. At this point he would uselessly run against it, which he did. Gil had closed it after his return. Still, he had underestimated Bright’s dedication as his shoulder connected with the creaking old door. Malcolm wasn’t the biggest hulk, but under current circumstances Gil wouldn’t be all too surprised if he would run through a brick wall._

_So Gil did what sounded most logical to him. Once he reached Malcolm he entrapped him in his arms, held him tightly and dragged him away from the door, away from hurting himself. He wondered if Malcolm knew what happened, begged he didn’t as the desperately struggling kid in his arms broke his heart. It pained him to see his kid in this position. It hurt even more to possess the knowledge that the fault lied on his shoulders square and heavy._

_The struggling began to fade away ever so slightly, in the end abating like a dying pet. Malcolm’s energy turned into thin air and he sunk to the ground, guided by Gil’s gentle support._

_xXx_

For the time being, Malcolm had his concentration relocated into his internal reality. His body had been left as a lifeless puppet without a hand sending down orders through the strings. His eyes, his eyes always had a tinge of weirdness. Malcolm has been born with beautiful blue eyes, yet at the same time, they were pale, eerie cold, and frightening. His profiling worked so well because it didn’t only look like he was reading his subjects. It was more like scanning them with an x-ray, leaving no stone unturned while exposing his victims.

But then, his eyes had looked empty. Open for the world, helpless and defenseless. No border control, everyone could see inside of him, if they were only able to understand the horrors Malcolm had to go through. No one could, Gil couldn’t, that’s why the description empty was the most fitting when in reality it was anything like that.

Gil had lost all his hope, his arms sliding down from Malcolm’s unresponsive body. For a second, for a whole second, he had wondered it was over. That after twenty years _this_ had to be the unfair end of Malcolm Bright’s fight with fate.

_xXx_

_And then he struck him._

_Malcolm struck Gil so hard, his face flew to the other side. More punches were supposed to rain down on him, or maybe they weren’t. Malcolm lunged into the air furiously, fighting something off, surely there must be something in Malcolm’s world, if not in this. Gil was at a question whether to secure him or let him do his thing, carefully waging the pro and cons of each decision. His thinking only resulted in procrastinating for so long, the answer fell on the latter choice._

_xXx_

Babysitting a Bright on a bad acid trip had been the most exhausting experience Gil ever had experienced in his life. Malcolm had been constantly fighting against nothing. If not that, he had been breaking down, screaming and crying, as if his life depended on it. The last option had been his muted stared into nothing, which freaked Gil out the most. The sudden mood swings had been overexerting Gil’s mind to a point where he was doubting his own sanity.

The ambulance had arrived late. There wasn’t much to say about it. It had been far too late. Gil had seen Malcolm _dying_ in the middle of his office, falling on his knees, and clutching his abdomen, panting in pain. He had panicked when Malcolm had punched himself several times in the gut, pretending he had a knife thrusting inside him. Malcolm had been so desperate to kill himself, what had he witnessed that was so horrible?

At that point, Gil had begged the ambulance to arrive and help his kid as soon as possible. He had already heard the chorus of sirens outside. The challenge for them had been to fight themselves up to their office. He had informed them he had been holding down a victim at the current moment, a victim that was dealing extraordinarily bad with the drug use. By that moment, Malcolm had been fully unresponsive.

He had learned that getting LSD injected was supposed to be even worse than taking it orally. The effects tend to attack in a matter of mere minutes and bring the user faster to the peak than manageable. His concerns also had reached a peak, by the way, surprising him since he hadn’t known it could go even higher.

The EMT had arrived minutes after Malcolm had given up on suicide. Outside the office, firemen, policemen, and EMT had been working together to restrain the insane detectives and officers. Only a small group of one paramedic and one fireman had managed to reach the secluded office. They had arrived just in time for Malcolm to bend down, his forehead pressed against the floor and his hands covering his ears and scream bloody murder. Tears had been running down his cheek so one might’ve feared he'd get dehydrated from that excessive loss.

_xXx_

_The EMT didn’t waste any time for questions. He was informed about his strong reactions and pulled out a syringe. He injected the antipsychotic medication, haloperidol the label said, an antibiotic mainly aiming to help against schizophrenia._

_For Malcolm, it seemed to work well enough for the time being. If the reason was the new liquid in his body, or maybe just himself tiring himself out, the effect was the same. The young man went slack and dropped promptly to the ground, energy faded away in a matter of seconds._

_Gil tore his gaze from his kid, trusting the paramedic to know what he’s doing. In the meantime, he assigned himself to rescue Dani this time with the help of the firefighter. Their former decision hadn’t done the poor woman any good, rather saving Malcolm and his own ass instead of helping her. Now that real help was there, there was no reason to keep her locked away any longer. It was time to set her free._

_xXx_

Once she had been freed she received the same treatment as Malcolm, although it had seemed to have a stronger effect on her than it had on Malcolm a few minutes prior. It could’ve been that she had shaken off some of the LSD already. It also could’ve been a completely different reason.

It had taken hours to restrain every cop and have them delivered to the hospital. Quite a few had been already receiving treatment when Gil arrived there, obviously joining the ride with Dani and Malcolm. Dani had been almost unconscious. She hadn’t seemed in a peaceful slumber, but it sure looked like she managed to calm down.

Malcolm instead, he had never stopped crying the whole ride. Sometimes he had fought against his restraints, sometimes he had managed to gather enough energy to release a small cry. His eyes had been glassy and wet, mainly unfocused. He had been still living through the nightmare and that for hours. Even after receiving medics.

Gil had stayed at the hospital for the whole night. Most of his employees had been here after all. Except those who had been on patrol or had night shift. Those had been spared and dutifully continued to protect the city like they always did.

Only the media had tried to feed on the incident like hungry vultures. They hadn’t been allowed to enter the hospital under any circumstances. The staff had been determined to give the recovering cops the rest they deserved. Only Ainsley made it through with her mother in tow, given they had actual family stuffed in there.

It didn't go well. Gil remembered Jessica screaming at him a lot. She had been furious to see her boy still suffering under the effects of the bad trip. She had grabbed every accusation she found and smashed it into his face. Of course she must’ve been aware how guilty Gil had already felt. It just hadn’t occurred to her that moment. She had been worried to death.

Gil didn't resent her for freaking out and cursing at him, and everything else. She had all right to be worried as a mother. He had no excuse to escape the truthful accusations.

They had ended with consoling each other in a tight hug. They had both needed it, worry and fear clouding their minds. They had hugged as if their life depended on it. And it offered little comfort, a little respite in this cruel world, so it wasn't too bad.

Gil was relieved she didn't despise him for his mistake. She was right though. He should've rid themselves of this cursed case earlier. Should have given it to the FBI even sooner. The harm it had caused to so many people was inexcusable. He knew that now, after all his men eventually landed in the hospital.

Ainsley had left earlier, revealing the information she just had gathered in her news. There had been nothing Gil could do about it. The world found out about the attack on the police precinct earlier than he had wanted. He had observed the news, had studied social media. Even in small places like Switzerland or Finland they discussed the incident at their precinct. The German television gladly informed all of its citizens of their failure. Their case was going viral.

So, Gil wasn't surprised when his phone rang. He greeted the call with a heavy sigh. "Lieutenant Arroyo."

The monotone voice on the other end of the line spoke up, introducing herself. Repeating that familiar name.

"I know," Gil answered, plummeting down on the nearest seat in the cold hallway of the hospital, and burying his head in his free hand.

"This case has spiraled out of your control," The familiar female voice stated sharply. Gil massaged his temple.

"Yeah, I noticed, too," He replied with a tiny hint of twisted humor. He exhaled heavily.

"Look," He began his proposal, "Do whatever you want. Just leave me and my detectives out of this." His whole team was laying in the same hospital, allocated in different rooms and sections.

"We will." Colette Swanson replied coolly. Without mentioning any goodbye the call ended abruptly. Gil listened to the beeping. His hand sunk down, meanwhile, his body stood up. He walked straightforward, looking into Malcolm's dark room through transparent windows.

The effects had worn off for a good day now. Still he stayed completely unresponsive. Tomorrow his therapist would have look at him. Hopefully she could help and tear Malcolm out of the hole he had fallen in. Someone had to. Malcolm hadn’t a future like this. Even with a beating heart, no one could call his comatose condition a real life and be serious about it.

All his other detectives had woken up already, given this was the second day. Some cases were kept for observation. So far everyone seemed to have forgiven him. They didn't sue Gil for Coleman's wrong doings. Gil was grateful for that. Internally he knew he deserved their unclouded judgment.

He betrayed his position, betrayed his responsibility he once swore to protect at all costs when he was made a lieutenant. His failure was made worldwide. He had messed up and that was a fact he couldn't escape anymore. All he could do was training to learn with that immortal guilt.

He would never succeed that without Malcolm.

He needed him. More than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a lot of rewrite and editing for this because I was never really content with the result. I hope it wasn't all too bad.  
> Thanks for reading for 2 months and a day now :)


	22. Chapter 21

His foot drummed restlessly on the ground. His arms were crossed before his chest, his head studied the same surroundings for days. Time had become a short thing, days passing by more rapidly like a snail on a sprint. He felt grounded, his wings broken and laying in the room he wasn't allowed to enter at the moment.

The FBI was on his heels, demanding to meet up in Quantico. Gil didn't even think about leaving New York, not with Malcolm still in the hospital. Why would the FBI even expect him? Should he bring their case on a silver tablet and bow before them? Should he as well deliver Coleman with it since that psycho's acting area was New fucking York?

Gil took a deep breath. He was so stressed, it left him angry most of the time. Honestly, the only person he should be mad at was himself for keeping this case so long. And Coleman of course, for doing such awful things. It didn't change the fact that Gil was constantly overthinking his decisions.

Would it really have been better if he gave the case up when he had formerly planned to? Would the killer have just forgotten about them and started to mock the FBI agents?

Only time could reveal that answer. In a few days the case would belong to the FBI if he wanted it or not.

The door to Malcolm's hospital room finally flung open. Gil's hands dropped down to a more polite stance. He observed the exiting Doctor expectantly. "So?"

The woman closed the door gently, lifting her gaze to meet Gil’s one. "Well, it is bad." She stated the obvious. Gil didn't buy that, the woman was holding back relevant information. He couldn't afford to miss that. He needed Malcolm back. Not for the case anymore, but because he cared for him. As family.

The doctor exhaled heavily. She put away her empty notes into the handbag she left dangling dangerously near to the ground. "I can't say much about his condition. It isn't like he ignores me or refuses to answer. It's like back in his childhood. Just a whole lot worse." The doctor replied sorrowfully.

Gil's ears were sharpened. If anyone would know what to do, it'd be Dr. Gabrielle Le Deux. She had been occupied with Malcolm's complex mind since his father's arrest. Malcolm had leaked at some point that he even considered her till now as his therapist. That's the sole reason Gil had called her in the first place.

"What do you mean by that?" He questioned concerned. Gabrielle bit her lip, ringing for the best way to explain the harsh reality. Gil's subtle gesture to rest on one of the couches went declined.

"He traps himself in a shell. He blocks out every external influence that could hurt him again. It's a complex safety mechanism." She began, her voice firm and professional. Her eyes flicked over to the room where Malcolm was still laying, unresponsive to the world. "Or he wasn't able to escape that place at all. That would be the worst option." She shuddered, her shoulders lifting and tensing up.

"But one can't know for sure. Only time will reveal." Her shoulders dropped down. She pulled up her purse and flipped it over her shoulder.

Gil blocked the path just in time before the therapist could leave. "Time? That's all?" He blurted out disappointed. He frowned downright angrily at her.

Dr. Le Deux lifted her eyebrows. "I'm a therapist for children. What more do you want?" She confirmed bluntly. Gil shook his head strongly.

"You know Malcolm's mind best. If there's anyone who can help him, it's you." He objected. Gabrielle swallowed down a groan, her bag sliding down her shoulder and sinking back to the ground.

"First of all, I don't know Malcolm's mind. I can't even begin to imagine what he has to endure on a daily basis, nor do I want to." She began, her strong tone indicating that she was on the verge of losing her patience with Gil.

"Second-" She held up two fingers. "I can't help." The impact of these three small words pushed out the air of Gil's lungs. "I never was able to help him. You can't just delete traumas. All I can do is help him deal with those." She added. Right after that, she searched her way to get past Gil.

"But isn't that the same again? Help him deal with those traumas. You've done it before, and he became a decent man." Gil offered before the woman could lift her bag again. The cold glares she gave him were a clear sign he said something he should instantly regret. He swallowed hard, readying himself for the incoming attack.

"I see you have no idea at all." She sighed in the end, surprising Gil completely. The woman carried a gentle glint in her eyes, telling him she didn't sue him for his ignorance. Going with the saying 'Ignorance is bliss'. Maybe it really is, but sometimes you can't avoid living in that fantasy world. If the ones close to you fall into that dark abyss of 'you'd better avoid that one', you can't help but follow them and jump right into it.

Gabrielle's eyes flickered to the couches. Gil began moving towards them, Gabrielle following him. This was going to be a long talk he feared.

"I don't doubt Malcolm can fight himself back into the world of the living. In case I have given you that impression." She apologized. Gil shook his head dismissively, although he had thought the exact thing. Gabrielle pushed away a curly strand of hair. "He really is a fighter. My astonishment for his endurance never ceased over all those years. With what burdens he managed to enter into adulthood and progress further." She spoke nostalgically. Gil smiled, luring out an equal kind expression out of her.

"What he experienced during his acid trip must've been truly horrifying," Gabrielle revealed. It felt hard for her to blink, her eyes getting sore, equal to her dry mouth.

"I get it," Gil huffed in agreement, failing to notice her emotions. After receiving silence he looked down with a frown.

"No, you don't," She stated firmly. She took a sharp breath, tensing up in her comfortable seat. "We can't even begin to imagine what he survived." The doctor hissed enraged, not at Gil specifically. "We never understood the full extent of his traumas, how are we supposed to feel what the drugs did to him?" She realized frustrated, glaring down into her lap with bared teeth.

"Maybe we aren't." Gil mused calmly. He looked away from her, his eyes wandering to Malcolm's room. "He wouldn't want us to anyway."

Gabrielle found back a sad smile, sharing his thoughts. "Maybe we really aren't supposed to." She hummed. Her head tilted to the side, remembering those many meetings she spent with Malcolm. Some days she would return home frustrated, achieving nothing with the muted child. Every meeting felt like the confirmation of her failure as a doctor.

One evening though, after years had passed by, she began the see the bigger picture. There had been times Malcolm ignored the whole world and locked himself in a shell. Towards the end though, he had sometimes been joking dryly or smiling sadly. It wasn't the optimum, but it was an improvement.

People with traumas would never be fully able to lead a normal life. Some could come closer to it, some could be further away. Malcolm was far away from that. Still he was able to live. Not even sad. It was hope he delivered her and many of her supposedly hopeless patients. The brave broken boy accompanied her throughout her career, even when he said his goodbyes after turning 18.

"Malcolm is anything but dumb. He's fully aware we can never comprehend his pain." Gabrielle spoke up. She laid her hand on Gil's knee. "So let's not try. Instead, let's be there for him. Show him that he will never be alone, no matter how broken he is." She suggested, a warm smile plastered on her face.

Gil returned the smile, covering her hand with his bigger one. "That has always been his greatest fear. To be left alone." He realized, Malcolm's panicked voice repeating in his mind.

_Don't... Don't leave me..._

"Yes," Gabrielle affirmed sorrowfully. "The fear is as much irrational as he fears of becoming like his father, am I right?" Gil nodded without hesitating. Abandoning his kid was never an option before. He had known him since he was ten, constantly caring about him and his well-being. There was nothing he loved more in this world anymore.

"Fear is a silly thing, isn't it?" Gabrielle sighed. "I've dealt with a lot of fears. Spiders, heights, such things are more common. Malcolm was a new challenge, even for me." She murmured nostalgically.

She never judged anyone for their fears. She also wouldn't say it would make one stupid for being afraid of supposedly silly things. Or after being told thousands of times to still have doubts. In her line of work, she realized there were always stories behind one's weird behavior. Each had their own story. It was what made them special. Made them human. She always preferred her little patients over those ignorant adults.

She stood up abruptly, startling Gil in his seat. He jumped up as well. "So? Can you help him now?" He repeated his questions. He began to follow the therapist who headed to the exit while ignoring the lieutenant. "Doctor?" Gil pestered irritated. How could he let her leave when Malcolm was still in the same situation as before?

Gil opened his mouth just when Gabrielle turned around. He stumbled back, closing his mouth dumbfounded.

"I told you once. I can't help him." She explained patiently. Gil sunk into himself, disappointed.

"But..." Gabrielle sighed tiredly. How she managed to keep up a congenial smile was a wonder to him. "Listen. There is clearly some unfinished business between the two of you." She noted. Gil took a defensive stance, surprised by how she could see through him. It was no wonder Malcolm turned out like this. It was either talking with his father or this woman. He was practically trained and raised to be the most talented profiler.

"He may seem to be lost in his own world," Gabrielle explained, "but there is still a part of him observing the real world." Gil frowned at Gabrielle. The therapist chuckled. "I know you can get through to him. He will listen to you. He trusts you." She complimented, patting his shoulder.

She used the time wisely and proceeded for the exit quickly. She feared she could never leave this place. Not to forget she had still important appointments.

Gil watched her leave, appearing calmer than he felt. He would be too late to stop her, even if he wanted to. He didn't intend to stop her from leaving though. He had heard enough.

His head turned to Malcolm's room. There was probably a fifty-fifty chance on whether Malcolm would return to him or not.

He wouldn't give him up.


End file.
